


Recovered Melody

by SoonToBeCyborg



Series: The Ancient Music [2]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dream Sex, Happy Ending, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Recovered Memories, Spymaster Corvo, Time Loop, Various Lawyerings, but not between the main pairing, implied Emily Kaldwin/Alexi Mayhew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2018-10-30 18:24:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 134,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10882434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoonToBeCyborg/pseuds/SoonToBeCyborg
Summary: The headaches and strange dreams are getting worse. But Corvo has more important things to worry about when a mysterious note appears in his office warning of a plot against Emily. Once Corvo starts pulling on the strings at the edge of the world, a conspiracy begins to unravel. But revealing their secrets may reveal his as well.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It begins! Thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments on Part 1! Hope you enjoy Part 2.

Meagan Foster pressed the palms of her hands flat against her ears, but the whispers only grew louder.

She crouched low in the shadows outside Stilton’s manor, just out of view of the Grand Guard. Dust from the mines wafted over the windbreaks. It clung to her clothes like a film but she didn’t move to brush it away. She stayed perfectly still and she watched the house, unblinking. She needed to stay focused.

The whispers were deafening.

For months, Meagan heard that voice in the back of her mind. It grew closer and closer with each passing day. The distant echo wrapped around Meagan’s thoughts and tugged at a bond she’d thought severed long ago.

How was this possible? The witch was dead. Daud went after her and Daud never failed. The nightmare ended. But like most of her nightmares, this one was recurring.

“Shut up,” she hissed to herself. “Shut up, shut up, shut—”

Meagan’s head snapped upwards when she heard it. A laugh, short and barked in triumph. The whispers faded away. It was over.

Delilah Copperspoon had returned.

She waited for Stilton’s signal but the ornament in the hallway window never appeared. Hours passed.

Meagan pursed her lips tightly and took a deep shuddering breath through her nose. Her right hand fell to the sword at her side. Someone had to do something.

* * *

Seven years.

Time was meaningless in the Void, and yet the Outsider felt its passing more acutely than before. His humanity hadn’t been eroded by the vastness of this place. Yet.

The Outsider wasn’t as strong as he could have been. But neither was she. The back-and-forth exchanges of magic, of tricks and traps set for one another, had taken a toll on them both. Still, Delilah was always ravenous for power and secrets, and his final trap was full of both.

It was a risk, allowing her to find the place where he was born. But the rhythmic echo of its ancient power was too tempting a piece of bait for her to pass up. He let the sound of it pour across the expanses of the Void, no longer muffled by his magic.

Delilah replied to its call. She couldn’t resist the promise of everything and forever. Fool. She stood at the center of the ancient island and basked in its thrumming energies. It showed her things that were, things that could have been, and things that would never be. She hungrily soaked it in. But the Void was hungry too.

The Outsider focused his energy and the barrier snapped into place around the island. Shimmering darkness encircled the ancient place. Delilah snarled and felt around for an exit. She threw blasts of wind, bursts of fire, and thorny vines against the walls of her prison. But every display of force she turned against the barrier was reflected back at her. The more she fought to escape, the stronger the barrier became.

For someone like her, this was the cruelest punishment. Delilah had more power and knowledge at her disposal than she’d ever dreamed of. And she was trapped with no way to make use of any of it.

In the farthest reaches of the Void, the Outsider sighed in relief. He’d be exhausted for a long time, but Delilah’s frustration was rejuvenating in its own way. He watched her pace around that place of ancient power like a caged animal, but Delilah didn’t wail and protest the way he expected. She taunted him.

“I used to stare at you in awe,” she called out as she launched another volley of magic at the barrier. It absorbed her effort, then reflected it back. Delilah paused, and narrowed her eyes.

“I wondered what sort of man you were in life.” She waved her gloved hand towards the altar. “A high priest of some dead religion? A powerful ruler? A sorcerer of unmatched talent who clawed your way to the prize? And now I know.” She looked at the place where he lost his life— his human life— so long ago. She listened to the memory there. And she laughed. The witch threw her head back and cackled.

Delilah tried to break the barrier again! She threw everything she had at it, all in vain, until she was so weak she swayed on her feet. It fed on every particle of energy, and threw it back in kind. Delilah swam in a concentrated bubble of power she couldn’t use, behind a barrier she could never force her way through.

“You’re just a sad little whore who never wanted any of this.” Her face went dark and she sneered. “And you’ve done nothing with it. All this power, and you _watch_ them. But don’t worry Ceòl.” She cocked her head, as if listening to something. Delilah positioned herself in the center of the island— the dead center— and smiled wide. “I’ll put you out of your misery soon.”

“Rah!” Delilah unleashed a surge of power that whipped across the island. The barrier absorbed the force from every angle and reflected it back, again and again in a loop, growing stronger with each pulsing cycle of magic.

What was she doing? She was only making her prison walls stronger and her cell less inhabitable. It was a self-contained system. The pressure increased exponentially with each passing moment. The forces from the feedback loop she was creating had no where to go but…

No.

A crack appeared at her feet! Then another. A pair of eyes peeked through the opening and into the Void, searching for a face. The seams intersected and formed a gap just large enough…

Oh no.

The realization dawned on him too late. Delilah wasn’t trying to break through the barrier. She wasn’t trying to escape back into the Void at all.

There were cracks in the world— scars really— that were torn open when he first became the Outsider. The power that trickled through those thin seams allowed people to use magic. When Corvo helped him return to the Void through one of those cracks, the wounds were reopened and had yet to heal.

And there, on the island in the Void where he was born, there was a crack in the slab. As the pressure built, the energy had nowhere to go… but through it.

Someone on the other side grabbed the seams and pulled. Held them open for her. Delilah wiggled her fingers in a mocking farewell. She blew a kiss into the Void and slipped away.

Her magic poured into the world like water circling a drain. The barrier collapsed under its own mass.

The Outsider arrived too late. Delilah was gone. She’d turned his trap inside out! He felt cold like the chill that spreads through the air as the sun’s rays disappear.

Entropy.

He wondered if Delilah understood the magnitude of what she’d just done. There was no way to be sure now. But one thing was certain. Delilah would return to the Void. After what she’d seen, the power she tasted here, she’d never be content with a human throne. And in the meantime, he could call on an ally of his own.

The Outsider felt for the familiar tug of his Mark and the resting mind attached to it. He reached out to Corvo, and pulled.

* * *

Corvo woke slowly to warmth and sunlight. He inhaled deeply and rolled to face the young man sleeping beside him. His partner was lying on his stomach, face hidden in the pillow, but he stirred when Corvo brushed fingertips along his back.

“ _Mmfph_. What…” the young man mumbled sleepily. He raised his head and looked around, brows knitted together. “Where am…”

The sound of his voice sent waves of desire coursing through Corvo. He planted soft kisses on the back of that pale neck, followed by playful nips and laves of his tongue. The young man tasted like salt and sweet spice. Corvo wanted to spend the entire morning tasting every inch of him. He ran sword-callused palms across the planes of his partner’s back. The young man moaned and shivered, lifting his backside in invitation.

Corvo growled low in his throat at the sight, and trailed his fingers teasingly along the cleft of his partner’s ass and between the cheeks. He grinned when he felt the oil.

“You’re already prepared?” Corvo asked breathlessly. “You’re too good to me.”

The young man huffed a laugh. “So it seems.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Corvo, I—” He cut off with a moan as Corvo pressed a thick middle finger inside of him.

Corvo let out a slow controlled breath. He was tight, even with the oil. They’d have to take this slow.

Corvo worked his finger in gently, soaking in every hitch of his partner’s breath and watching for signs of discomfort. But the young man moaned in appreciation and pushed back on Corvo’s hand. After a minute, he pushed a second finger in alongside the first. Corvo ran a hand up and down his partner’s spine as he accommodated to the stretch.

“Right there,” the young man whined into the sheets. “Please.”

“Void, you’re beautiful,” Corvo murmured as he leaned forward, one hand buried inside the young man and another stroking his back tenderly. “I’ve missed you so much. I—” His voice caught in his throat. “Please don’t leave again.”

The young man stilled beneath him. “Corvo, wait. We need to…” He shifted his hips and moaned when Corvo’s fingers plunged deeper. “We need to talk,” he panted.

Corvo’s heart sank. Those four words had never been followed by anything good. He slipped his fingers free and moved up the bed. The young man rolled over to face him and Corvo’s chest constricted when their eyes met. That gorgeous shade of pale green, so rare in the isles, suited his partner perfectly.

“Corvo,” the young man said, voice deep and serious. “Do you know who I am?”

“Of course I know you,” he said. Corvo smiled at him and traced his cheekbone with a thumb. “I’ve missed you.”

He leaned in slowly, allowing time for the young man to pull away if he wanted, and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was soft and unhurried. It felt familiar in a way that filled more and more of the empty spaces within him the longer their lips touched.

They broke apart with a contented sigh. But the young man still looked worried.

“What’s wrong?” Corvo asked. “Do you have to leave again?”

He sighed and nodded. “I was trying to pull your mind to me. Instead, a piece of me ended up inside of yours.” He chuckled to himself and hung his head. “I’m weaker than I thought.”

“What do you mean?” Corvo inched closer. His lover looked healthy and strong, flushed from their foreplay. “Are you sick?”

“Not exactly.” The young man pulled Corvo to him and pressed their foreheads together. His nimble fingers threaded into Corvo’s long hair, just beginning to show its grey, and Corvo sighed pleasantly at the sensation. “It doesn’t matter now. Even if I told you everything, you won’t remember when you wake. So let’s just…” He swallowed thickly. “Let’s enjoy each other in the moment.”

Corvo held him tighter. “That sounds a lot like goodbye.”

The young man squared his delicate jaw, determined. “Not yet. There’s still time.” He surged forward and pinned Corvo with a searing kiss, desperate and longing. He panted against Corvo’s mouth. “I’ll find a way.”

Corvo felt himself pulled down by the young man’s long arms and he barely caught himself in time to keep from crushing him. The young man breathed heavily as he arranged himself on his back and spread his legs.

“Now where were we?” His tone was playful but the coy smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“We don’t have to,” Corvo assured him. “You’re upset about something. If you’d rather just hold each other, we can.”

The young man’s smile softened into something much more genuine. “Even in your dreams— where you’re free to live out your basest desires— you’re a gentleman.” He reached up and pulled Corvo down to him.

Corvo slid between his thighs. “Are you sure about this?” he asked. His protests were cut off when an oil-slicked hand wrapped around his cock.

“Do you want me, Corvo?”

His hips jerked forward and he drove himself into the tight grip. “More than anything.”

“Then have me,” his partner said, face soft and serious.

Corvo lowered himself and pushed in.

He was still tight, despite their earlier foreplay and Corvo’s slicked cock, but the young man arched his hips and pushed in a smooth, practiced motion. Corvo was buried to the hilt in the span of one punched-out breath.

“You feel amazing,” Corvo whispered, mouth pressed against the young man’s ear. “You always do. It’s like you were made for me.”

The young man groaned and wrapped his legs tightly around Corvo’s waist. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Corvo felt his partner’s heels dig into his backside, spurring him on like a war horse from before the Industrial Age. He drowned in the sensations of his partner: tight grip on his cock, hand tugging on his hair, heels dug into his backside, the dragging of his partner’s length against his abdomen.

And his eyes. By the Void, Corvo couldn’t drag his gaze away from them. There was moisture gathered at the corners but the young man’s face was all pleasure.

Not tears of pain. Emotion then.

Corvo slowed his pace. He lifted a hand to his partner’s face, and wiped an errant tear from his eyes. “You’ve missed me, too,” Corvo said, as he drove forward with deliberate tenderness.

The young man swallowed thickly and tightened his jaw, but offered no response aside from gasping moans as Corvo hit that spot inside him.

“It’s alright,” Corvo whispered. “You don’t have to say it.”

The young man’s reply was a whimper and a gasp. He locked down and shook apart in Corvo’s arms as he came.

Corvo wasn’t far behind as he buried himself to the hilt and spilled, shuddering and gripping the thin hips tightly enough to leave bruises. They were both quiet as they caught their breath.

The young man buried his face in Corvo’s neck, panting. “I can’t believe how much I feel here.”

Corvo laughed and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Were you expecting to feel less? Should I be insulted?”

“Far from it. It’s not everyone who can make me forget my problems so thoroughly.”

Corvo rolled onto his back and brought his partner to rest beside him. It felt like a missing piece of himself slotted into place against his side.

“You still won’t tell me what’s wrong,” Corvo pouted. “I’ll help if I can.”

“I know,” the young man whispered. “And you will. But I’ll need to find another way to draw your attention where it needs to go.”

Corvo shivered as those long fingers walked a trail idly up his chest, stopping to trace every burn and scar. His partner’s gaze was almost mournful as he pondered something. Then, he shook his head and sighed.

“It’s time to wake up, Corvo.”

* * *

Corvo snapped awake with a shaky gasp. He squeezed his stinging eyes shut against the dim light. There was no warm body to greet him, no sweet smell of a sated partner or gentle post-coital laughter. Corvo Attano woke to solitude and sticky mess.

A pulsing pain began in the back of his head and spread quickly to behind his eyes. Corvo pressed the palm of a callused hand against his eyelids as if countering the pressure would relieve the strain. It didn’t. But the headache faded after a few minutes. He needed to begin his day.

He threw back the covers on his bed and padded to the washroom. He slapped his soiled briefs in the sink and avoided his reflection as he filled the basin with water. Corvo hadn’t woken to a mess in his shorts since he was a teenager. And even though he couldn’t remember the details of the dream, he knew he’d been dreaming about a man. He could recall the faintest glimmers of dark hair and green eyes.

That Corvo was attracted to men, wasn’t new. He’d known that since his teens when sparring with his fellow soldiers in the Grand Guard began to raise more than just his pulse. But he lost interest in all others after he fell in love with Jessamine. And then she was lost— No. She was assassinated, Corvo coldly reminded himself. He hated the way people said “lost” as if she’d been misplaced in a drawer somewhere.

She wasn’t lost. She’d been taken.

He sighed and drained the sink, scrubbing the evidence out of his briefs before he twisted them dry and left them to hang over the edge of the tub. At least the maids in Dunwall Tower were discreet.

* * *

The human fragment of the Outsider’s consciousness slid back into place. That wasn’t what he’d intended to do. He touched Corvo’s mind, but not in a way that would help either of them. Corvo’s memories of Ceòl were still buried and any visits from Ceòl, even in his dreams, were affected by the same magic.

The Outsider needed a messenger. Weak and stretched thin, he reached out to one of his shrines.

* * *

Cecelia stretched behind the bar and felt a satisfying crack in her neck. It was nearly time to open the doors. She puffed her cheeks and sighed.

Her life was good compared to most people. She had food, shelter and security. She ran a business that, even though it wasn’t making her rich, kept her in enough coin she didn’t have to worry. She even had a small savings. It wasn’t a glamorous existence but it was hers, earned fair and square. She was proud of that.

But some days she itched beneath her skin. Ever since Samuel died, each day bled into the next and she found herself growing restless. Funny, how a thing like that can take hold once you’re no longer struggling to get by.

A knock at the front window snapped her from her thoughts. Cecelia groaned. The neighborhood drunks were probably trying to get an early start. She was around the side of the bar so they couldn’t see her. If it was Grayson, she’d let let him in. He tipped. But if it was Hunter, she’d wait for him to go away. She didn’t like the way he flirted with her.

More than once she had to use her odd power on him, the one she didn’t even realize she’d have until a few years ago. He was leering over the bar one minute, then wandering away in a daze the next. She tried not to do that sort of thing too often, of course. Only when she didn’t feel safe.

But when Cecelia slid around the corner of the bar to see who was knocking on the front windows, she didn’t see one of her regular customers. Instead, she was met with the face of a young girl, no older than fourteen. The girl was scrawny, with dirty bangs plastered to her forehead and heavy bags under her eyes. A beggar most likely.

Cecelia motioned to the closed sign, but the girl knocked more insistently than before. She mimed something that Cecelia didn’t understand, pointing to her own eyes and making large circles. Cecelia sighed and, despite her better judgment, she opened the front door.

The girl darted inside, all nervous fidgeting and cautious glances, like she was ready to run away after she’d just begged to come in.

“I don’t give handouts,” Cecelia began, “but if you can sweep the floors and wash the glasses, I’ll pay a fair wage. My normal help took a few weeks to visit his mother in Poolwick and—”

“He said you’d pay me some coin and I could be on my way,” she interrupted.

“Excuse me?” Cecelia felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle and a familiarly ominous feeling crept over her. “Who said that?”

“ _He_ did.” The girl held Cecelia’s gaze. When Cecelia didn’t say anything, the girl explained. “I’ve been sleeping in an abandoned house on the corner of Pendleton Avenue and Bunting Way. There’s a room in the basement.” She shrugged. “There was a shrine in there and I…” The girl trailed off. “And I’m supposed to tell you to go to the shrine yourself. He wants to tell you something.” The girl held out her cupped hands.

Cecelia narrowed her eyes. She hadn’t heard from the Outsider in over seven years, not that she’d reached out to him. She had to dismantle the shrine Corvo crafted when Overseers started doing ‘spot inspections’ in the neighborhood last year.

Why did the Outsider want to talk to her now? And why send some beggar child to deliver the message, demanding coin? It made no sense.

It could be a trap. She wouldn’t put it past the Overseers to pay desperate people into luring others to shrines. But why her? This girl came straight to her pub.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cecelia lied. “Sounds like heresy, though. As a Stricture-abiding citizen, it’d be my duty to report you to the—”

The girl broke into a shy smile, almost amused. “He was right.”

“What?”

“He said you’d— it doesn’t matter. He said to prove it wasn’t a trick, to give you the password: coal.”

Cecelia’s stomach dropped. “He said it like that? Like ‘coal’?”

The girl scrunched her face. “Well, sort of. When I said it back, he said it was close enough and you’d know it. So…” She held her hands out again, more insistent this time.

Cecelia pulled a stool off the top of the bar and sat heavily. “So why send you with a message? Couldn’t he have just—” Then she remembered what the Outsider said to her all those years ago.

_“I tried to touch your mind as you slept. I reached out and you simply slipped through my fingers.”_

Cecelia chuckled to herself. At the very least, she made him work for it. Cecelia considered giving the girl a few coins to go away, then getting on with her day as normal. But after years of silence, there had to be some reason he was asking for her now. Curiosity had its claws in her, and she knew it.

She went around the bar to the register, grabbed a two coins-of-five, and gave them to the girl.

The girl frowned. “Fifty-eight,” she mumbled. “He said you had fifty-eight coin in the register and you’d give it to me.”

Cecelia went still and stared at the fourty-eight coin remaining in the till. Her eyes slid back to the girl. Cecelia dug out the remaining coin and handed it over. “Stay away from those shrines.”

The girl left as quickly as she’d come and Cecelia hung a small sign in the window of her pub:

_Personal Emergency. Back in a few Hours._  

* * *

The abandoned house was exactly where the girl said it would be. Cecelia approached with caution, willing herself to be silent and unseen. It could still be a trap after all. But after crouching in a damp alley for over an hour and watching the streets, she saw no sign of Overseers or robbers laying in wait. She ventured inside and into the basement room.

The shrine in the corner glowed faintly and hummed with that familiar sound she knew in her bones but could never place.

Cecelia stood before the altar and crossed her arms. “What do you want?”

She gasped as the shrine splintered apart and the world lost focus. When she could see clearly again, she wasn’t in the basement of an abandoned house, but in a world of dark expanses and floating stretches black glossy rocks. She’d never been to the Void before, but something felt wrong.

“Ah, Cecelia, It’s been too long.”

She spun around and met a pair of black eyes. Cecelia nearly stumbled back a step but held her ground at the last moment. He was the one who called her here, so it wouldn’t do to seem timid.

“You promised her my whole register?” Cecelia groused, hands on her hips.

The Outsider shrugged. “I had to be sure she’d deliver the message. I need a favor.”

Her stomach dropped. “What favor?”

The Outsider turned to her in profile and stared into the endless nothing. “Go to Dunwall Tower and deliver a note to Corvo. Be discreet.”

A moment of silence passed— a beat, then two. “That’s all?”

“That’s all.” The Outsider smiled tightly and extended a long-fingered hand. A slip of folded paper materialized in his palm and he nodded in its direction.

Cecelia took it gingerly. It felt ordinary in her hands. No tingle of magic or strange sounds. It was simple paper. “Doesn’t look very official or important.” She narrowed her eyes. “No seal?”

The Outsider folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Why bother with a seal when I know you’re going to read it?”

Cecelia sheepishly unfolded the paper. Her eyes went wide as they skimmed over the tidy handwriting. “This is…” She ran a hand over her face. “And you’re just going to pass him a cryptic note about it like a schoolchild?”

“Corvo is an excellent spymaster. I’ve revealed enough in those few words for him to assemble the pieces.”

Cecelia rolled her eyes. “This is awfully roundabout, even for you. Why not drag him here and be cryptic in person?”

The Outsider didn’t answer. He simply gazed into the darkness.

She stared at his back and her head swam as she listened to the swirling chaos around them. “You can’t. Something’s wrong here.” She took a closer look at the god. “Something’s wrong… with you.”

Cecelia remembered what the Outsider said to her seven years ago. He said he’d “sacrificed a great deal” to bury the memories of his human existence from everyone who’d known him as Ceòl. Had that sacrifice cost more than he’d let on? Or was this something else?

She may have imagined it, but for a brief instant the Outsider’s mouth twitched upwards.

“You’re observant.” He turned to face her fully. “Despite millennia of experience and knowledge, I’m a young god again, and I haven’t been able to adapt as quickly as I’d hoped.”

In the distance, Cecelia could see something flicker against the bright white light. It looked like tendrils reaching in and stretching back out. Everything about the Void felt wrong, like a scale being played with an off-key note. He wasn’t telling her something.

But the Outsider held his head high. “Even if I could bring Corvo here and give him every detail, I’m afraid of what he’d do with that information.” His black eyes were glued to the glowing light in the distance. “Armed with too many answers, he’ll run head-first into battle, ready to cut down the people plotting against his daughter. A direct assault won’t go well for him.” He shook his head and began to pace. “This way is better. Pointed in the right direction, but without all the pieces of the puzzle, Corvo will have to be cautious. He’ll be less likely to do something… foolish.”

Cecelia read the note again. It didn’t give Corvo much to go on.

“So, I’m sending a messenger.” He turned to her and smiled wickedly. “And you can go through Tower security unnoticed. Can’t you, Cecelia?”

Cecelia went still. “You’ve been watching me.”

“Not as much as I’d like. But I’ve caught a few interesting performances.” He vanished, then reappeared on her opposite side, smiling and intrigued. “You walk through dangerous districts with your head held high, unafraid of the gangs and cutthroats who linger in the shadows. As long as you keep your focus steady and project your will, they forget you as soon as they’ve seen you.”

He dissolved and blinked back into existence again, a bit further away. It reminded her of a fidgeting child.

“You could steal a vast fortune with that skill, and live like a noble. And yet…” He cocked his head. “You own a bar.”

Cecelia pursed her lips. “I don’t _want_ to live like a noble. For how much they have, they’re a miserable bunch.”

“You’re not wrong.” He raised a finger to his chin thoughtfully. “It’s interesting. You’ve never wanted more. You’ve only ever wanted to have… enough.”

It didn’t sound like a judgement, or an assessment of her character. But Cecelia wasn’t sure why the Outsider cared about her lack of ambition. She changed the subject.

“Why should I do this? Why risk my life getting to the Tower? If I slip up and get caught, those guards might not stop to ask questions.” She crossed her arms. “I haven’t spoken to Corvo since Samuel’s funeral. He’s a good man, but I don’t have any obligation to him.” She raised her chin and met the Outsider’s black eyes. “Maybe I should run straight to the nearest train station and get out of town. Apparently, there’s trouble coming.”

She could live on her savings for months if she had to. If she had time to find a buyer for the Hound Pits, she could live on that money for years.

The smile spread slowly across the Outsider’s face. “Not a bad bluff. But we both know you’d never forgive yourself if you did that.” He appeared inches in front her, and this time Cecelia did stumble back a step. The Outsider’s face hardened. “There’ll be no safe place to run if this conspiracy succeeds. Not with what they have planned.”

He raised a hand towards the distance as the Void twisted and transformed. A tableau shimmered to life.

Cecelia’s raised a shaking hand to cover her mouth. “What— what is this?”

“A glimpse of your world’s future.” The Outsider stared at the fractured vistas of stone, twisted monsters, frozen faces, and unnatural darkness in the sky above Dunwall Tower. “So I suggest you save yourself, by warning Corvo.”

He blinked away and sat at the edge of the floating island, long legs dangling over the abyss. He turned his head back to her and added, “And hurry. Corvo needs time to investigate, and the conspirators are already hard at work.”

The world shifted and Cecelia found herself standing in front of the shrine again with the Outsider’s note folded in the palm of her hand.

She turned her back on the altar and took off towards Dunwall Tower.


	2. Chapter 2

Corvo checked his reflection in the hallway mirror before he headed out. He’d been so disoriented from this morning’s headache he’d nearly forgotten to shave. Hopefully no one would notice the small patch of stubble he’d missed just under his chin. He ran a hand through his long hair, the strands of grey highlighted by the mid-morning sun.

He buckled the outermost straps on his new Royal Protector’s uniform as he prepared to enter the training yard. Corvo missed the familiar weight of his long heavy coat. He wasn’t sure what to make of these new garments at first, but Darion assured him they were both functional and fashionable.

And he was right. The sleeveless waistcoat, vest and long sleeve shirt kept his core warm on evenings when he was hiding out on rooftops, but allowed for good range of motion when engaged in a fight. The asymmetry of the coat tail seemed like an unnecessary bit of flair but it didn’t drag the ground when he crouched, so he didn’t complain.

Corvo nodded to the young officers on duty who were guarding the entryway and proceeded into the yard. The sound of clashing metal and shuffling feet filled the air as the members of the City Watch practiced. Everyone was paired off and running choreographed drills designed to hone precision and build muscle memory, but there were a few others who were practicing one-on-one combat.

His eyes locked onto one pair in particular.

Captain Mortimer Ramsey and Lieutenant Alexi Mayhew were in the middle of a heated spar. Ramsey was unusually hard on the young woman compared to how he trained the rest of the men. Corvo wasn’t sure what to make of that some days. Ostensibly, he was trying to make her a better solider. As close as Alexi was to Empress Emily that was a worthy goal.

Alexi soaked up every lesson like a sponge, thirsty to learn as much as she could. So, Corvo allowed Ramsey to push her to her limits during training.

Corvo sighed. He wished he could give Emily the benefit of training with a variety of opponents.

They had their own combat training in secret several times per week ever since she turned sixteen. Corvo pushed her hard. When they were training, she was his apprentice, not his daughter. However, practicing with only one person was never ideal. Emily needed to engage in combat with different body types and skill sets. He did his best to switch up techniques each time they sparred, but it wasn’t the same as having field training like this. Yet, he didn’t trust anyone other than himself to swing an unsheathed blade around her.

With so many of the City Watch gathered in one place, Corvo used it as a chance to gauge the moral fiber of the people who protected the city. He extended his left hand and summoned the gruesome token gifted to him by the Outsider so many years ago.

The Heart sprung into existence in the palm of his hand. It felt real: flesh and metal and spinning gears behind glass. It was warm as it beat steadily and hummed with the energies of the Void.

He used to keep it permanently summoned and hidden in a secret compartment in his quarters, afraid he’d lose it to the Void one day when it dematerialized. At some point over the years that fear abated and now he felt comfortable enough to call and dismiss it at will.

The Heart rarely warned him of specific threats. Declarations like “That man has taken a bribe to leave the armory unlocked tonight” were very uncommon. Mostly, it hinted about a person’s character. Sometimes that was more important than the details of what they did day-to-day.

“Come on, Mayhew!” Ramsey cried out as one of his swings narrowly missed her midsection. “If you were any slower I’d have run you straight through the gut!”

_“He spends so much time thinking about what could have been, he barely recognizes how good his life still is.”_

Corvo shook his head. Mortimer Ramsey was the newly promoted Captain of the City Watch. He grew up as an aristocrat and his father was deeply in debt to the Boyle family even before the rat plague ravaged the city. By the time Dunwall recovered and Emily was coronated, the Ramsey fortune was in ruins. Poor Mortimer ended up having to work for a living.

But despite the fall of his family, Ramsey made something for himself. From what Corvo could tell, he was a competent officer who had the respect of his men. He’d earned one promotion after another until he eventually rose to the position of Captain. Yet, he was far less enthusiastic about the elite position than expected.

It was no secret that Ramsey was bitter about the irrelevance of his noble birth. Corvo hoped that this new title would salve the man’s wounded pride. In time, he’d come to understand that a position earned through hard work and respect was worth more than an inherited title.

“Gah!” Alexi cried out as she dodged another swing and rounded on Ramsey with a side swipe. Ramsey dodged, but he noticed the feint too late and Alexi Mayhew swung from the opposite side, disarming him. With a finishing flourish, she knocked him backwards and Captain Ramsey hit the dust.

Her eyes lit up with victory and Corvo had to restrain himself from applauding. It wouldn’t be appropriate to show favor in public.

“Not bad,” Ramsey panted. He extended a hand and Alexi let down her guard. A mistake. In the blink of an eye, Ramsey swiped her legs out from under her and had his sword at her throat. He grinned in victory. “But you could be better.”

He wiped the dust from his rear and motioned to another man to step forward.

Alexi dragged herself to a nearby wall and leaned against it to catch her breath.

_“She hopes that she can learn a lesson from each mistake made in the training yard. A mistake in the heat of battle could cost the Empress her life.”_

A proud smile broke over Corvo’s features.

Alexi Mayhew attained the rank of Lieutenant among the City Watch in record time, and was one of the few people trusted with Emily’s safety aside from Corvo. She was a respectable fighter, but not the best among them. Mostly, Corvo allowed her to be as close to Emily as she was because he knew Alexi could be trusted. She’d proven her loyalty she was only a teenager.

Alexi was riding in a carriage with Emily six years ago when the group called “the Regenters” attacked. Corvo was in a separate car to give Emily some time alone with her friend. That’s when the bridge’s emergency shield walls went up around Emily’s carriage. By the time Corvo was over the barrier an explosion went off. He screamed her name as he cleared the wall, fearing the worst.

But when the smoke cleared, both Emily and Alexi were alive and well. To Corvo’s astonishment, young Ms. Mayhew had thrown the live grenade at her feet right back at the attackers.

The culprits tried to retreat but they were caught in their own trap by that point. Emily grabbed a rail tie and beat one of their leaders until he couldn’t stand anymore. Corvo smiled when he saw Emily swing her improvised weapon the way he’d trained her.

But nothing would have saved Emily from a grenade blast. Alexi’s fearlessness and quick reflexes had done that. She was admitted into the ranks of the City Watch when she turned eighteen and quickly became a rising star.

Corvo liked her. Jessamine would have loved her.

The grief washed over him and he cast a guilty glance to the Heart in his hand.

Corvo wasn’t sure when exactly he knew it was her. He’d always recognized the spectral voice emanating from the Heart. How could he not? But when it was first given to him— with Emily missing and his face on wanted posters all over the city— he hadn’t had the mental fortitude to think about _why_ it spoke with her voice. His mind simply shut down whenever he wondered.

At some point in the last several years, however, the acceptance of what it meant crept into his bones and settled there. He didn’t know the details, but he knew the Heart was Jessamine’s.

It should have been horrifying. And it was. But deeper down, he knew she wasn’t in pain. She wasn’t suffering or screaming or trapped. This was a piece of her that lingered. An echo. He couldn’t converse with her but he could still hear her voice. It wasn’t enough. Nothing ever would be. But he’d take it all the same.

Someone cleared their throat behind him and Corvo dismissed the Heart back to wherever it went when it wasn’t in his hand.

“High Overseer Khulan,” Corvo said with a respectful nod. As much as he knew the Heart to be invisible to other people, he wasn’t bold enough to point it at the High Overseer. Best not to tempt fate where the Abbey was concerned. “You’re early for your meeting with the Empress.”

“Royal Protector,” Khulan replied, with a nod of his own. His gaze swept across the yard and he smiled. “It was a slow day at the gate for visitors. I always allow plenty of time to get through security.” Khulan smiled softly and motioned to the men in the yard. “They’re doing well.”

“Ramsey’s working them harder than usual today. But they’re improving steadily, so I can’t argue with his methods.” In truth, there was too much of a joyful gleam in Ramsey’s eyes every time he knocked a recruit on their ass. “How is that outreach program in Tyvia coming along?”

Khulan curled his lip. “Not well. I knew it’d be difficult. My people are stubborn and prideful and the Abbey isn’t readily trusted in the most remote regions. It doesn’t help matters that the High Judges are wary of anyone who doesn’t speak with their voices. And then the council of—” He sighed. “But these things aren’t accomplished in a single lifetime. I’ll lay the groundwork for future High Overseers to follow.”

Corvo simply nodded, and pretended to be focused on the spars below. He doubted any future High Overseer would care half as much about the people of the Isles as Yul Khulan did, much less carry on his outreach efforts in northern Tyvia. Corvo wasn’t used to having favorable opinions of anyone within the Abbey of the Everyman, but Khulan was a good man.

He was firm with the men in his ranks but fair with the people. He’d spent almost seven years focused on unity and rooting out corruption within the organization. He hadn’t been very successful, but he made more of an effort than his predecessors. He was certainly the best High Overseer they’d had in recent memory.

Campbell’s tenure had been a slow-moving train wreck and then the High Overseers after him had been disasters, though thankfully short-lived in their positions. Some scandal saw the High Overseer before Khulan removed suddenly and with little explanation. Officially, the former High Overseer Windham stepped down voluntarily to “pursue personal spiritual concerns” but everyone knew that was just a story. He was in a small chapel in rural Morley now.

They stood side-by-side in companionable silence and observed the members of the City Watch until the clock struck ten. Corvo took a step backwards, and motioned for the High Overseer to follow him to the meeting room.

* * *

It was late in the day by the time Corvo was able to retreat to his office. He still hadn’t eaten dinner but there were some reports he wanted to review before tomorrow’s meeting with the Minister of Imports.

He unlocked the heavy oak door and frowned at the clutter and dust in the room. He needed to clean again. It was far too easy for someone to bribe a maid to snoop around, so the office of the Royal Spymaster was off limits to everyone except for Corvo and the Empress herself.

But before he could settle into his chair, his eyes locked onto something that shouldn’t be there: a slip of folded paper on the floor.

Corvo’s eyes clouded over, then snapped into clear focus with blown pupils as he searched the room with supernatural vision. But there was no one hiding in the walls nor signs of recent footfalls. The only way to access the office was with a key carried in his coat pocket. He patted his jacket to confirm it was still inside. Whoever left the note slipped it underneath the door.

He unfolded the paper and his eyes went wide.

 

> _Corvo,_
> 
> _There is a conspiracy to undermine, and eventually overthrow, Emily Kaldwin. The conspirators’ influence will spread across your Empire in the coming months and years. But if you intervene early enough, you can prevent the worst of it from coming to pass._
> 
> _Turn your gaze to Karnaca._
> 
> _Yours,_
> 
> _An old friend_

 

The paper was ordinary print stock that could have been purchased anywhere in the city. The handwriting was neat, with small carefully-spaced lettering. It wasn’t written in a hurry. There was no sign of a seal. Mostly likely, the person who left this note was also its author.

Then there was the peculiar wording. The sender spoke of the conspirators influence spreading in the future tense— _The conspirators’ influence_ will _spread across your Empire—_ as if they were confident in their knowledge of how events were going to unfold. Was this from someone inside the supposed conspiracy perhaps?

They also used the phrase “your” empire, as if they didn’t consider themselves one of Emily’s subjects. A separatist? But if that were the case, why would they warn him? Perhaps they found themselves among people they no longer agreed with and wanted to turn on them.

Something else struck Corvo about the note. They addressed him by name only, no titles. And “Yours” was a very familiar, almost romantic way to end the letter.

As for the signature— “An old friend”— Corvo didn’t have any friends. It was a necessary part of his position. Friends were a dangerous thing to have when they could be used against you. But whoever wrote this seemed to think they were close. Or they were mocking him.

On a whim, Corvo lifted the note to his face and took a gentle whiff. He immediately crinkled his nose and exhaled through his mouth. It smelled metallic and familiar somehow, but he couldn’t place the scent. A machinery shop or a foundry? His off-the-record duties as spymaster took him to all corners of the city.

Dunwall had been quiet recently. Emily was an adult now and establishing herself as a competent ruler would take time. He’d squashed most of the opportunistic nobles who’d plotted against her over the years. Political disagreements and legal squabbles with the throne were one thing; sending assassins was another. The former he had no problem with. Emily needed to learn how to handle people who disagreed with her, especially if they were right. But the latter had finally stopped coming and now…

He read the note again. The conspiracy’s goal was “to undermine and _eventually_ overthrow” his daughter. That meant they had long-term plans. And long-term plans would leave a paper trail.

Of course, that was assuming this anonymous person could be trusted.

He briefly considered consulting the Outsider. Twelve years had passed since he’d heard from the mysterious figure of the Void. Corvo stumbled upon a few shrines over the years, but he hesitated to approach them every time. Something in the back of his mind wouldn’t let him get too close. He always ended up walking way, his thoughts in turmoil and gut twisted with an anxiety he didn’t understand.

Corvo shook his head and sat heavily in his plush office chair. The note gave him almost nothing to go on other than “Turn your gaze to Karnaca.” At least the note’s author had left him that detail. His former home— the city of his birth— required his attention.

Luckily, Corvo had contacts there.


	3. Chapter 3

Corvo needed intel.

He wrote to all of his retired spies in Karnaca— using the various aliases he’d taken over the years— and asked about goings-on within their cities, no matter how innocuous. He didn’t want to influence their reports, so he didn’t mention the contents of the mysterious note.

Norman, Jana, and Alma— his people in Karnaca— all replied within a day of each other.

Norman used to work for Mr. Bunting, the art dealer. He didn’t have Bunting’s aristocratic connections or fancy certifications, so he was never able to strike out on his own. But Norman knew everything Bunting did about art, artifacts and natural curiosities.

Dunwall aristocrats used Bunting to fence illicit goods and launder money, and Norman’s information about who was selling what was always useful. By the time Bunting began to grow suspicious, Norman’s “Uncle Roman” passed away and he inherited a nice sum of coin and an apartment in Karnaca’s Lower Aventa Quarter.

Technically, Norman was only semi-retired. The apartment Corvo gave him was directly across from a building where a local cluster of Regenters sublet an apartment under a false name. Norman received a generous monthly stipend to keep him informed about their activities. 

 

> Lord Attano,
> 
> Brockburn and his ilk still meet monthly, but it’s just the core group. No new members, and Benitez has missed the last few meetings. I planted an audiograph in the neighboring apartment prior to their last meeting. The only item on the agenda was about whether or not to re-coreograph their secret handshake. After an hour of debate, they voted 5 to 2 to keep the handshake the same. Idiots. I’ve included the recording with this letter.
> 
> The Santiago fisheries have been keeping it quiet, but they’ve had most of their clutches turn to rot. Lower Aventa smelled like dead fish for a week!
> 
> I visited the Royal Conservatory to see their new exhibit on the marine life of the northern sea, but the specimens were abysmal. The quality of their work has not been what I’ve come to expect from the curator. I’d cite budgets cuts, except word is the Duke just gave the Conservatory a big grant. That money isn’t going into the exhibits. 
> 
> Speaking of the Duke, he’s become so unpopular he put Sokolov Security Devices out in the streets! Reminds me of bad days in Dunwall.
> 
> I’ve seen carriages carrying crates full of machinery to the mansion at the top of the hill. 
> 
> I don’t have any connections to the mining district, but they say one of the mine owners vanished. Normally no one would care, except I heard that this was someone people actually liked. Probably got offed by a competitor.
> 
> Other than that, all I can say is the city is tense.
> 
> Respectfully,  
>  Norman

 

Then, there was Jana. Corvo recruited her nearly ten years ago when Emily was attending a luncheon at Lady Brisby’s estate.

Brisby had only staffed one servant to take the orders for the entire party. She didn’t even give the poor woman anything to write with! And yet, Jana remembered the luncheon orders for over thirty guests— special requests and all. Every drink, appetizer and entree found its way to the correct person. None of the nobles seemed to understand how remarkable that was. But Corvo knew the value of good listener with a great memory.

Jana quickly became one of his best spies. She was always listening to her surroundings and could recite entire conversations verbatim days after she overheard them. With all the right references, she transferred from one noble house to another and served as a reliable pair of eyes and ears for the Tower.

Then, a little over a year ago, she helped stop a kidnapping attempt intended for Emily. Getting the message to Corvo in time required Jana to leave in the middle of her shift, blowing her cover.

Corvo found her a nice apartment in Karnaca in a safe building with lots of neighbors, as per her request. It was a little closer to the mining district than he would have liked, but far enough west that she didn’t have to deal with the dust.

 

> Lord Protector,
> 
> I thought about writing you only days ago, and now a letter! You have eyes and ears all over, I suppose.
> 
> So you’ve probably heard by now, but in case you haven’t, Mr. Stilton’s gone missing. I overheard my neighbor, Eunice, say that he was the only mine owner who gave half a fig for his workers. No one will say if he’s dead or not, but Eunice’s brother-in-law works those mines and he says it wasn’t even days before the other mine owners started lengthening shifts and shortening breaks. With Mr. Stilton gone, things are going back to the old ways.
> 
> What’s worse is the doctor that used to visit them hasn’t been coming around. There was a fancy Academy alchemist who used to treat them for free. She’s stopped seeing patients and it’s got Thomas— that’s Eunice’s cousin— real worked up because he has a condition with his heart that needs expensive medicine and that doctor used to mix him up a bunch of doses for free. He can’t afford to stop working, and Claudia— that’s his wife— is terrified he’ll drop dead in the mines.
> 
> Some people are quitting the mines to join a new gang. They’re small but plenty of miners would rather do shady work than die in a hole.
> 
> Everyone is twitchy. I’m not sure what the Empress could do, short of coming down here and telling the Duke to tighten his belt. Not sure how that’d go over with everyone. Serkonans are really prideful, meaning no offense to you of course.
> 
> Sincerely,  
>  Jana

 

The last letter was from Alma.

Corvo traced the edges of the paper and smiled. He had a soft spot for Alma.

 

> Lord Corvo,
> 
> I finally have a garden! It took forever to desalinate the soil this close to the canal but the herbs and vegetables are growing well. My fig tree just produced its first fruit. As for current events…
> 
> The Duke was bad before, but now that he owns Stilton Mining he’s off the leash entirely. Officially, he’s only taking over until Stilton is “found” but you and I both know that’s a pile of rat droppings. You’d think the papers would have been all over that scandal, but after one mention they stopped writing about it.
> 
> So, I kept my ear to the ground. Rumor has it the Duke and some VIPs went to Stilton’s manor for a party last month. After they left, Stilton wasn’t heard from again. Something happened that night and the obvious answer is the most likely. The mountains will crumble around those mines the way they’re being hollowed out now.
> 
> The orchards on the northern end of the island are blooming big and early, and the grain harvest is supposed to be a record yield, so it’s not all bad news. The people will need that food with the fishery doing so badly.
> 
> Some folks are talking like this is the beginning of the end. It’s not that bad yet (not compared to what I’ve seen) but things in Karnaca are about to change.
> 
> Regards,  
>  Alma
> 
> P.S. I know I say it every time we write, but thank you for everything.

 

Alma wasn’t one of his spies per se. But they’d known each other for years and he trusted her. He could almost call her an old friend. Corvo paused and wondered…

No. The handwriting was different. And Alma was in Karnaca, not in Dunwall slipping things underneath his office door.

She started working as a maid in the Tower around the time he first arrived in Dunwall. Nineteen and wide-eyed, young Corvo was totally out of place in the Empire’s capital. But Alma was also new to the Tower and they gravitated to one another.

The native Gristolians snickered at his poor table etiquette and foreign accent. But Alma taught him the difference between a seafood fork and a fruit fork as well as the correct way to pronounce certain words.

“There’s nothing wrong with your accent,” she assured him one night. They were in the kitchen where she’d set up an array of utensils for him memorize and practice using. “The nobles will get used to it.”

Corvo hung his head and long hair swept in front of his eyes. “I want to say it right.”

“You are saying it right.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Alma nodded. “Spoon,” she said with a gentle patience that made him miss his recently deceased mother.

“Spewn,” he repeated, thick Karnacan accent wrapped around his tongue.

She’d grinned fondly and repeated, “Spoon.”

She was over a decade older than him but they became close very quickly. There was a spark between them in those early years. Alma was pretty and kind. She made him feel less alone.

It never amounted to anything. His duties guarding young Jessamine— only twelve years old at the time— took up most of his hours. And then, once Jessamine became young woman, Corvo lost interest in anyone else.

But he and Alma stayed friendly. Her discretion with Jessamine’s bed linens was probably the only thing that kept the affair from immediately becoming public knowledge.

Then Jessamine was killed. He was dragged off to Coldridge and the rest was history. When Corvo was finally living in the Tower again, he noticed something missing. Alma.

He asked around among the staff but no one knew what had happened to her. During the chaos of Burrows’ reign and the devastation of the plague, most people assumed the worst when a person disappeared. Corvo was no exception.

He mourned Alma. Then he moved on.

Shame burned behind his cheeks. He hadn’t even looked for her. He rarely thought of her over those next several years. He was a busy man who became even busier once he took over as Royal Spymaster.

It was during one of his secret excursions through the city that he’d found her again.

~~~~~~~

It was three years ago. Norman had a tip on the location of some extremely rare pre-Industrial artwork that had been “legally seized” by one of Burrows’ barristers during the plague and was scheduled to be sold at an underground auction that night.

Corvo perched on the roof of a warehouse, waiting for the culprits to show themselves. It had a good view of the shipping yard where the crates where supposed to be unloaded. The area was abandoned except for an old beggar woman huddled in the alley below. And she couldn’t see him from down there.

The air was biting and he flexed his hands in his pockets to keep them limber.

The old woman started coughing. The sound was wet and deep in her chest. Something respiratory he’d guess.

“What I wouldn’t give for a cup of hot tea,” she grumbled to herself. “A bit of lemon. And honey.”

The hair stood up on his arms. He knew that voice. Corvo peered over the ledge and his heart dropped.

The beggar leaned out of a small shelter— it was cobbled together from shipping crates from the looks of it— and warmed her hands in front of a small fire pit. Calling it a fire pit was generous but the indent in the paving had been made into a place where a fire could be kept.

For a moment, he didn’t believe it was her. Alma had warm eyes and a gentle expression. This woman cast sideways glances down either end of the alley at regular intervals and hunched in on herself. The skin on her hands was weathered and thin. She’d been on the street for a while.

He dropped silently into the shadows and snuck closer. His worries about how long she’d been living like this were confirmed when she immediately stiffened and drew a slim knife from her sleeve. She couldn’t see him but she knew someone was there.

Good instincts. He hated to think of what it had taken to hone them.

“Don’t come any closer,” she warned, voice hoarse and sickly.

He stepped from the shadows and slowly removed his mask. “Alma?”

Her hand shook and the light from her small fire danced on the knife’s blade. “Lord Corvo?” Her voice was a whisper. Her eyes rolled back. The knife fell from her hand.

Corvo caught her just before she hit the ground.

He abandoned the operation— artwork be damned— and carried her to a safe-house a few blocks away. He had places like this scattered around the city.

“Simple respiratory infection,” the neighborhood physician said, bored. “Easy enough to treat. But it’ll only waste your coin. Living on the streets, she’ll just get sick again and—”

“Treat her,” Corvo said sharply.

He watched as the physician measured out ingredients and mixed them on a nearby table. How had Alma come to this? What happened to her after he was taken to Coldridge?

The physician left him with plenty of medicine and instructions on how to administer it, and Corvo kept watch over Alma as she slept.

Hours later, she woke with a start. Alma flailed around, nearly knocking over the vials of medicine near the bed as she panicked in her new surroundings.

“Whoa whoa! Calm down, Alma. You’re safe.” Corvo kneeled next to the bed and took her frail hand. “You’re safe here.”

Her eyes scanned the room and Corvo could practically see the memories as they trickled in. “Lord Corvo. You… in the alley…”

“You fainted.” He swallowed and rubbed his warm hands against her chilled ones. “We’re in a safe-house and you can stay as long as you need.”

She flushed, from either embarrassment or fever and nodded. “Thank you, my Lord. I didn’t mean to be a bother.”

Corvo gaped. “A bother? What are—” He shook his head clear. “Alma what happened to you?”

“I got fired last year.” She pulled her hands free and wrapped them around herself. “I had a job tinning fish. After Lady Emily’s tariffs, the fisheries recovered and they started hiring again. So, I had work for a while. But my hands aren’t what they used to be and I had trouble keeping up with the conveyers.” She shrugged.

Corvo furrowed his brows. “What about your job at the Tower?”

Alma narrowed her eyes. “Yarborough never told you?”

Corvo went still. Frederick Yarborough was the Staff Manager for the Tower. He did the hiring and firing, wrote the duty rosters, organized maintenance and other related tasks.

“He said a lot of people disappeared while I was gone. I assumed…”  _I assumed you were dead and I never bothered to look for you. You! One of the first people to show me kindness in this damned city,_ he was too ashamed to say.

Alma hung her head and chuckled. “After they hauled you off to prison for something you never would have done, I couldn’t stay on. I couldn’t smile and curtsey for that rat sleeping in Lady Jessamine’s bed.” Her shoulders began to shake. “I told Yarborough I’d come back to the Tower when there was a Kaldwin on the throne again and I walked out.”

The tears flowed freely as she choked out the rest. “It was so stupid. I should have just held my tongue. But I couldn’t even look at Burrows smirking and drinking wine. I had no idea that he arranged the murder but I knew you were innocent.” Her small fists balled in the thin fabric of her sleeves. “I got through the plague somehow. And after Lady Emily was coronated I went back to the Tower and talked to Yarborough.”

Her whole body was shaking and Corvo moved onto the bed. He wrapped her in his arms.

“He said my services were no longer needed,” she sobbed into his shoulder. “That Lady Emily required staff who didn’t abandon their posts over ‘philosophical differences.’”

Corvo’s grip on Alma tightened and he forced himself to ease up. Yarborough wouldn’t have a job come morning. “Those were not Emily’s orders.”

Alma sniffled. “I figured. But it’s not like I could get past him to talk to you. I tried getting housekeeping work at other places but Yarborough blackballed me. I couldn’t even get an interview at a laundry house. The only places willing to take me were slaughterhouses and canneries and such.”

Hard work for a woman of a certain age. And she’d been working those jobs for years?

Corvo hung his head. He hated that nearly all the staff at the Tower had stayed on under Burrows, but he didn’t blame them either. With a plague and uncertainty looming overhead, he understood why so many of them needed to keep their positions. But Alma should never have been punished for her resignation.

“You’ll have your old position back. I’ll see to it personally.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. Alma flashed him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

At her age, and after so long on the streets, the promise of washing linens and dusting fine crystal for nobles wasn’t exactly a storybook ending. She’d been working as a maid in one house or another ever since she was old enough to help her own mother fold the sheets. Half a century of service. She deserved better than this.

“What’s keeping you here?” Corvo finally asked. “In Dunwall, I mean.”

Alma huffed. “Not enough coin to leave.”

Corvo smiled. “And if you had the coin, where would you go?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m serious.”

Alma looked at her hands and bit her lower lip. “Somewhere warm.”

Two months later, her accommodations were secured, along with a monthly stipend to last her for the rest of her life. Corvo personally escorted her to her ship bound for Karnaca. He only asked one thing in return.

“Write to me sometimes? Let me know that you’re alright, and if you need anything…”

She cut him off with a hug and a tearful nod.

~~~~~~~~

Corvo smiled softly, and re-read the beginning of her letter. Alma sounded happy.

He sighed and spread all of the information out on his desk.Enough reminiscing about the past. He needed to focus.

Aramis Stilton’s disappearance was big news and this was the first Corvo was hearing of it. Corvo didn’t know him personally, but by all accounts Stilton was a good man from humble origins who worked his way up from nothing. Stilton was good to his miners and it forced other mine owners to improve their working conditions or risk losing a chunk of their workforce to Stilton. It was unusual for the industry. Historically, nobles competed to see who could pay the least and gain the most product for it. But Stilton’s methods made him one of the wealthiest private citizens in Serkonos.

Corvo had met with the Serkonan ambassador only a few days ago. He poured through his desk and found the memos and current events updates the ambassador provided. The reports did mention some mild civil unrest— probably understated. It noted that there were food shortages due to “unforeseen circumstances” at Karnaca’s largest fishery, but also bragged about above average crop yields. There was no mention of any grant to the Royal Conservatory, but that may not have been deemed important enough to mention.

However, the news about Aramis Stilton was definitely important and there wasn’t a hint of it. In fact, there was no information about Karnaca’s mines other than to assure Empress Emily that quotas were being met and their taxes would be paid on schedule.

Corvo read each letter again. All of his spies knew that Stilton was missing, which meant most of Karnaca had to know as well. It wasn’t a well-kept secret.

The ambassador had been ordered to omit the news because Duke Abele didn’t want the Empress to know he owned those mines. But why would he have _needed_ Stilton’s mines? The Duke had wealth even the nobles of Dunwall envied. And if he wanted more silver, he could simply demand it.

But what if the Duke demanded so much silver that Stilton couldn’t supply it without overworking his miners? If Stilton refused the Duke’s increased quotas it could have gotten him into trouble.

If that was the case, then why did the Duke need so much extra wealth so suddenly?

Corvo squeezed his eyes shut and braced for the sinking feeling in his gut as the obvious answer hit him. Funding conspiracies took a lot of coin: bribed officials, wooed nobles, gifts and promotions to key people throughout the isles. If Duke Abele needed to spread his influence quickly, the coin would have to follow in short order and he’d need to hide its origin. And now, he owned mines that had once been privately operated.

If it hadn’t been for the mysterious note, Corvo would have had no idea.

He stared at the small, neat handwriting for the hundredth time and wondered who sent this warning and why.

* * *

Within a few weeks, Corvo’s suspicions were confirmed.

It wasn’t unusual for a representative of the Empire to independently verify an ambassador’s reports. So, Corvo sent a request to Stilton’s offices using the Royal Seal, and asked about their silver production. The reply he received was supposedly from Aramis Stilton’s personal assistant who assured Corvo that all operations were running as reported. The letterhead bore the pickaxe logo of Stilton Mining Operations.

The next week, Corvo intercepted an order for new digging equipment from Stilton Mining to a machine-shop in Morley. The invoice was addressed to the new Director of Operations for Stilton Mining, Baron Caruso. The letterhead for Stilton Mining bore a white rose.

So, people who had direct business with Stilton were being made aware of the change of ownership, but the Duke was going out of his way to keep the news from reaching Dunwall Tower.

There was no innocent way to explain that. The Duke was amassing resources behind the Empress’ back. But for what purpose? To fund a conspiracy that would undermine and later overthrow Emily? Or was it simply greed?

Following the trail of coin was always a spymaster’s first tactic, and Corvo followed a large pile of it straight to the accounts of a man named Kirin Jindosh. He was the Duke’s Royal Inventor, so the sums weren’t necessarily suspicious. Luca Abele was unpopular and his investments in “the next generation security technology” from Jindosh were understandable. Still, Corvo had to wonder what types of devices the Duke was commissioning.

A few weeks later, he intercepted another batch of correspondence. Breanna Ashworth, curator of the Royal Conservatory, made several large purchases of rare minerals from Tyvia, specialized metal alloys from Morley and crystal from northern Gristol. The items’ intended uses were listed as “exhibit-related.” But, according to Norman’s latest intelligence, the preservationists at the Conservatory had no large projects in the works. These materials were being used for some secret project.

There wasn’t much he could find out about the missing doctor or the bad luck at the fishery from his office in Dunwall. But he doubted either were related the conspiracy.

Corvo gathered the materials together and organized his findings. He needed to make Emily aware of this.

If the anonymous note was to be believed— and Corvo was giving more weight to its warnings by the day— this was bigger than one man and his ambition. There was a larger network at play and if he confronted anyone before he had all of the facts, they’d go to ground and make new plans. His mysterious informant might not be able to warn him a second time.

He needed more information. If these people were planning to undermine Emily, he needed to know how they were going to do it and who was involved. But, on the plus side, long-term plans took time and they had no idea the Royal Spymaster was investigating. He could gather enough evidence to arrest them all before they gathered enough support to threaten Emily. That was a much safer option than waiting for the Duke and his allies to show their cards.

Corvo knew his former spies would be willing to come out of retirement for some gold, but they weren’t trained to investigate something this big on their own. He needed to be there in person to give them guidance and protection. He owed them that much. Unfortunately, if he traveled to Karnaca publicly it would seem suspicious. And if he went in secret, his absence from Dunwall Tower would alert the Duke.

He leaned back and ran a rough palm over his face. There was only one option that would allow him to oversee the investigation in Karnaca without his absence from Dunwall looking suspicious.

* * *

He summoned Emily into his office the next evening.

She entered with her own key after a few quick knocks and collapsed into the chair opposite his desk, unladylike and casual with her legs spread wide. Without the eyes of Dunwall’s nobility on her, Emily looked more like a tired young woman after a long day of work than an empress going into a meeting with her spymaster.

“You look tired, father.”

Corvo grinned. “So do you. Long day?”

“Trade agreements with Morley aren’t going well.” She leaned her head back against the upholstery. “They’re touchy about the lack of demand. But their major consumable is jellied ox tongue!” She waved her hands in exasperation. “I couldn’t force people to eat that with a royal decree.”

Corvo stifled a laugh in his hand. “Morley is adjusting to your tariffs. A recovered Gristol threatens their pride and their pockets.” He cleared his throat. “But, that’s a concern for tomorrow.” Corvo tightened his jaw and pushed the heavy folder towards her. “I need to make you aware of a security threat.”

Emily straightened in her chair and accepted the dossier with a nod.

He watched as she read each document thoroughly. The lines on her forehead and around her mouth creased when she reached the end. He’d documented everything from the initial suspicions to the intercepted invoices and laid out a clear argument for his conclusions. Still, he’d taught her not to accept anything at face value. Not even if it came from him.

“This only proves that the Duke is spending a lot of coin behind my back.” Emily flipped back to the beginning and took the anonymous note from the file. She held it to the light and examined it from every angle. “You’ll need more proof if you want to charge him with anything, and if you step foot in Serkonos he’ll cover his tracks.”

Corvo nodded. “I know. Which is why I’m going to travel there in secret.”

Emily scrunched her face. “As soon as you haven’t been seen inside the Tower for a few days, he’ll know something’s wrong. Plus, the only thing we can reasonably suspect him of right now is having Aramis Stilton killed. If he’s guilty, the motive could be greed.”

Corvo steepled his fingers underneath his chin. “I’ve been thinking about that. He’s gone to a lot of trouble to hide Stilton’s disappearance. If all he wanted was silver, even at the cost of Stilton’s life, he could’ve figured out a way to pin the murder on someone and then taken over through legitimate legal means. That would have been the smart thing to do, honestly.” Speaking about it out loud with Emily made Corvo realize something as well. He dropped his hands to the desk. “So why didn’t he?”

“Maybe Stilton wasn’t supposed to die?” Emily chewed her lip. “Like you said in your report, there’s no innocent explanation for hiding the change in ownership. If this was part of the plan, they’d have a reasonable explanation prepared.”

Corvo beamed at Emily. She had a point. “Maybe Stilton found something and they had to silence him? From what I can tell, Abele practically took control of the mines overnight. He’s just trying to hide it from us for as long as he can.” He flipped through the pages of suspicious invoices and fake correspondence. “It’s a stupid decision in the long-run, which means he’s more worried about keeping us distracted in the short-term than actually getting away with it. He’s hoping that by the time we find out, it’ll be too late. That points to a coup.” 

“That’s speculation.” Emily sighed and she spun the signet ring on her middle finger, a habit she had when she was deep in thought. “But I think you’re right.”

They were silent for a few minutes as they went back over the evidence. But every once in a while, Corvo saw Emily’s gaze stray to the slip of paper that started it all.

She pulled her feet underneath her on the chair like she used to do when she was young and there was no one around to lecture her about manners. “This is all based on a mysterious note?” She ran her thumb across the signature. “This anonymous tipster. How do we know we can trust her— or him.”

Corvo admired her attempt at subtlety. “They signed a bit oddly, I’ll admit. But I don’t who sent it, Emily.”

Her face fell. “You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “It’s signed ‘Yours’, father. ‘An old friend’? Really? And this note set off an entire investigation.” She leaned forward and lifted the weighty folder, then dropped it with loud thump on his desk. “But you don’t know who sent it?”

“I investigate every tip that comes to my attention. This one actually led somewhere.”

“If you have a lover I won’t be angry.” Emily’s voice was soft. “I wouldn’t consider it an insult to her memory. And neither would she.”

A blade would have been less painful than the clenching sensation that gripped his heart.

“It’s alright for you to move on,” Emily continued. “It won’t replace what you had with her or make it less special. Twelve years is a long time to be alone and—” Her voice cracked. “She would have wanted you to be happy.”

“I know,” Corvo whispered. He leaned back and stared at his hand. For a moment he was tempted to summon her. He wanted to hear her voice. He wanted to ask her if that was true, or if Emily was telling him what he needed to hear.

“If I ever do meet someone, I’ll tell you. But I swear I don’t know who sent that warning. Only that once I looked into it…” He waved to the dossier.

“And you want to go in secret to Karnaca to investigate.” Emily nibbled on a thumbnail. “How?”

“That’s where you come in.” He hesitated and added, “And Alexi too.”

“What do you need us to do?”

Corvo exhaled slowly and tried to look reassuring. “I need you to bury me next to your mother.”

* * *

When another homeless youth knocked on the front window of the Hound Pits before hours— this time it was a boy who looked to be about twelve— Cecelia waved him inside. She emptied the register as he mumbled the location of the shrine she’d been summoned to. She also sent the lad off with some fish sandwiches and several pieces of fruit.

“I may as well reassemble the shrine in the attic if he’s going to keep this up,” she grumbled to herself.

The boy barely paid attention as he shoved fifty-eight coin into his filthy pockets and scurried out the door with an armful of food. Cecelia wondered if the Outsider got a kick out of seeing her lose that much money or if he just had a soft spot for homeless children. Who knew what his reasons were.

She tossed the keys to her assistant when he arrived for his shift and told him not to expect her back until later. Something told Cecelia that the Outsider needed more than a simple note delivered this time.


	4. Chapter 4

They had to keep up appearances in order for this to work.

Five months after he received the anonymous warning, Corvo bid farewell to Emily in a semi-formal ceremony and boarded a ship to Tyvia. The ship was manned by an aging captain and skeleton crew— suspicious to anyone paying attention, but it couldn’t be helped. He wanted to involve as few people in this ruse as possible. Corvo selected the captain and crew from among those the Heart implied could be trusted to keep their silence. Still, he made it clear that they were under orders from the Empress herself to stick to the story.

Ostensibly, this was a diplomatic visit. Tyvia enjoyed more independence than Serkonos and Morley, but the crown had to throw its weight around occasionally. This was as good a pretense as any for leaving Gristol.

He assigned Lieutenant Mayhew to replace him at Emily’s side during his absence. Corvo went tense at the thought.

When he and Emily invited Alexi into the Spymaster’s office to fill her in on the real reason for his “diplomatic trip to Tyvia” Alexi took everything in stride. She accepted the responsibility with a clear sense of purpose. But Corvo didn’t feel reassured.

He trusted, Alexi. That wasn’t the problem. She was loyal, a scrappy fighter, and she’d give her life for Emily if it was required. But she was no Corvo Attano. What if something happened while he was gone? What if it was safer to stay by her side and wait for the conspiracy to show itself rather than trying to root them out? He almost called the whole thing off.

But in the end, Corvo’s better sense prevailed. The passive approach had too many risks. He needed to think about Emily’s future security as a ruler as well as her physical safety in the present. He wouldn’t always be around to protect her.

Corvo’s knuckles went white as he gripped the railing of his ship and watched Dunwall disappear into the distance. The last time he left an Empress unattended he’d returned just in time to watch her die. His stomach churned as he assured himself that history would not be repeated.

Emily had the best guards in the empire at her back, but she didn’t rely on them entirely. Unbeknownst to them, she could defend herself. They had contingencies in place. She had Alexi. She had a safe room. She’d be fine.

She’d be fine.

* * *

After a few days at sea, the ship’s captain veered off course in the dead of night. He navigated closer to shore and cut the ship’s engines.

Corvo handed the old man his retirement package: an obscene sum of gold, new identity papers and keys to a villa on the eastern coast of Morley. After all, it would look suspicious if Corvo were the only person lost at sea and he was asking the captain to destroy his own ship.

“Wait a few days before you do it,” Corvo instructed him. Once the wreck was reported, every ship in the area would be called upon to aid in the search and he wanted to be on a vessel headed south before that happened.

The captain nodded. “I know a good spot near Baleton.” He saluted. “Good luck, Lord Attano.”

Corvo dressed in commoner’s clothing and packed as many supplies as he could into a single duffle bag. He also took his uniform, the mask, weapons, and plenty of coin.

Then he detached a battered dinghy that had been hidden for him inside of the lifeboats and headed towards the port town of Potterstead. Corvo held his breath as he navigated the choppy waters without so much as a sliver of moonlight to see by. The vessel was off-balance and felt heavy for its size. Corvo was relieved to make it to shore and he sank the small boat near some rocky outcroppings south of the docks.

The coastal town saw population spikes during the fishing season and Pennant Festival. But it was the latter end of the Month of Hearths now and there were plenty of empty fishing shacks near the water. Corvo slipped the flimsy lock on the door of a quiet hut and settled in for the night.

It was just warm enough inside that Corvo didn’t need to put any wood into the furnace. It wouldn’t be a comfortable night, but he wouldn’t freeze. Smoke rising from the thin tin chimney might attract attention.

He lit a candle inside the small washroom. It was time to change his appearance.

Corvo hesitated as he lifted the scissors to his scalp. He had to shave his head due to a lice infestation several years ago, but other than that he’d had long hair since he was eighteen. One of the most recognizable things about him was his hair and he was supposed to be traveling incognito. So, Corvo tightened his lips, and made the first cut.

He sighed as hair fell into the sink.

By the time he was finished most of the washbasin was filled with hair. He ran his fingers along his jaw where the beard stubble was growing in. It wasn’t a perfect disguise, but few people had ever seen him with a beard or short hair, much less combined, so it’d do.

* * *

In the morning, Corvo wandered the lonely docks of Potterstead and found a barnacle-encrusted cargo ship headed for Karnaca. He paid for his passage with the promise of labor, a common enough practice for ships making long hauls. The vessel was captained by a weathered old man with grey eyes and a half-smile.

When the captain asked his name, Corvo replied, “Samuel.”

The captain informed him that the journey would take nearly a month as they made stops at various ports along their route. Corvo balked at the wasted time. He could spend that month investigating this conspiracy. But, in order to ensure his anonymity, this was for the best.

“Samuel” spent his days doing the unskilled labor none of the other crewmen wanted to do. For weeks, he cleaned floors, scraped barnacles from the equipment, emptied chamber pots and hauled gear. At the end of the day, he collapsed onto his small cot in the bunk room. No one else was able to see it, so at night when he curled up on his cot in the crew bunks after a day of exhausting labor, Corvo would lay on his side and summon the Heart to his hand. He fell asleep listening to her voice.

And yet, his dreams featured someone else.

* * *

Corvo fisted his hands in the sheets and took slow, even breaths as he struggled to maintain control. He was on his back, letting the young man take the lead in their love making, and it was the sweetest torture he’d ever felt. Corvo wanted to run his hands along the lithe body riding him so badly. But he also wanted this to last, and his partner wasn’t making that easy. 

The young man tightened himself around Corvo’s cock and swiveled his hips as he rode. Every time he sank down he let loose a obscene moan. The pale-eyed bastard was teasing him— putting on a show!

“You’re being very well-behaved, my dear Corvo.” He eyelids fluttered as he sank down again. “Just look at you, straining to keep your hands to yourself.”

The young man ran his hands along along his own thighs and up his stomach. He smirked at Corvo and took one of his nipples between a thumb and forefinger. He twisted it roughly and clenched down on Corvo’s cock as he moaned.

“By the Void,” Corvo growled. “When are you going to stop teasing me?”

The young man grinned. “When are you going to make me?”

Corvo released his grip on the sheets and held his partner’s face in his hands. “I want to see you, not some performance.” He rubbed his thumb along a sharp cheekbone. “Take what you need.”

The young man smiled softly and all pretense evaporated. When he began his rhythm again, it was like night and day. He leaned back and braced himself with one hand behind him and the other on Corvo’s stomach. His eyes rolled back when he pushed himself down on Corvo’s length and he keened in time with Corvo’s thrusts. 

This wasn’t done for show. There was no choreography now. It was honest and carnal and everything Corvo needed. Everything they both needed.

“I’ve missed you,” Corvo whispered between gasps.

His lover didn’t reply in kind. Corvo didn’t expect him too. He didn’t need to say it.

They were both getting close, so Corvo reached out and took his lover’s shaft in his hand. “Let go,” Corvo said. “Let me see.”

His lover’s eyes watered and he nodded quickly. His rhythm became jerky and erratic. “Corvo,” he gasped. “I— ah!” He doubled over, his forehead to Corvo’s chest, and came in a few quick strokes.

The tightness, the sounds of his pleasure and the look on his face had Corvo following him over the edge. His fingers dug into the pale skin of his partner’s back and he pulled him up for a kiss as they both came undone.

They lay trembling in each other’s arms for several minutes before their eyes met again. Despite their enthusiastic activity, the young man was shivering. Corvo slid the blankets over them both and ran his large hands along the young man’s body to warm him.

He buried his face in Corvo’s neck. “I was trying to have a conversation with you before you became… distracted,” he murmured.

Corvo chuckled and kissed the top of his head. “You were naked. It was _very_ distracting.” He trailed his fingers up and down the young man’s back.

“I like your beard,” he murmured, a bit shy. Long pale fingers traced the line of his jaw. “It suits you.”

Corvo laughed. “Is that the important conversation I distracted you from?”

“No.” He traced one of the scars on Corvo’s chest. “Be careful in Karnaca. I’m glad you were thorough in your investigation, but your caution took time. The conspirators are advancing their plans every day and gaining influence. This might—” He cut off as a shiver wracked his entire body. “This might not work.”

Corvo rolled to his side and wrapped both arms around his shaking lover. “You’re cold.” His stomach dropped. “What’s wrong? Are you still sick?” He tried to sit up, but his lover dragged him back to the bed.

The young man pressed their foreheads together and twined his fingers in Corvo’s short-cropped hair.

Corvo held him tightly as he was wracked by more tremors. “Let me get a doctor for you. Please.”

The young man looked up and sighed, resigned. “It’s time to wake up, Corvo.”

~~~~~~~~

Corvo groaned awake and was greeted by an uncomfortable stickiness in his shorts and the pulsing of another headache. It happened again. And he was fairly certain the dream was about the same young man as last time. He remembered whispered words and beautiful green eyes.

The other men in the bunk room weren’t awake yet, so Corvo wiped himself down in the washroom. He shook his head. He wasn’t a teenager anymore. This shouldn’t be happening.

* * *

After a month of scrubbing floors and cleaning piss pots, the journey was finally over. Corvo angled his face towards the sun and took a deep breath on the deck of the ship. He felt the tension in his muscles ease ever so slightly.

Karnaca. Home.

Even the sea smelled different down here. In Gristol there was a tangy brine that stuck to the back of your throat when you inhaled deeply of the ocean air. It got in your lungs, saturated your clothes and hair. That sour odor had galled him when he first arrived in Dunwall so many years ago.

Despite the clouds of dust pouring down upon the mining district in the east, the air in Karnaca’s harbor was refreshingly clean. There was a crispness to the scent of the southern island. It smelled of smoke and spices, the forest after a hard rain, and salt spray. The humidity plastered it everywhere, sticky and cloying, but it was an aroma Corvo wanted to roll in.

On a whim, he summoned the Heart.

He knew it wasn’t Jessamine, but he’d always wanted to show her his home. And this was as close as they were ever going to get to that now.

He leaned over the railing and whispered. “Do you see how the water almost sparkles with the mid-day sun? In the winter, when the light is low and the air is a little drier, the reflections on the water light up the entire city with pink and red. It’s romantic but I never had anyone to share it with when I lived here.”

A sudden cresting of a hump and sharp spray of water in the distance caught his attention. A whale? This close to shore?

_“The whales sing songs of loss and longing,”_ the Heart said. _“He understands both of those things now. He wishes he didn’t.”_

Corvo felt his stomach drop. Who was she talking about?

A sharp whistle cut the air, and Corvo turned.

“Oy! Samuel!” the captain called out. Corvo clutched the strap of his bag and made his way over. “So, uh, here’s your stop.”

Corvo nodded. “Thanks for the bunk. Hope I earned my keep.” But the captain’s narrowed eyes told him there was some business to settle.

“Well, mostly. It’s just…” He scratched his stubbled chin. “I understand a man of your size… well, you’re probably accustomed to bigger portions.” The captain sighed. “And you did work hard. I got no doubt you worked up an appetite every day that weren’t really settled with gruel and fish. But I barely make enough profit on these runs to pay my crew. So, I gotta ask for a little coin to cover the extra you ate.”

“I was getting extra?” Corvo asked. The portions he was given were far smaller than he was used to, and he’d lost weight on the journey. But he knew better than to make a fuss about it and so he’d taken his meals without complaint.

The captain’s face went hard. “I mean the extra food you stole. Choffer.” He ran a hand over his wind-weathered cheeks. “Look. I’m not mad. We keep extra ‘tack for emergencies. Just pay for what you ate.”

Corvo stared at him dumbfounded.

“Don’t be a thief _and_ a liar, Samuel.”

Making a scene over some missing hardtack would get people talking. So, Corvo apologized contritely and dug a handful coin out of his bag. He hoped whoever stole that food and blamed it on him was happy with themselves.

The ship anchored in the harbor and a skiff took him and a few other men to the docks. It had to navigate around larger vessels and whale corpses being reeled towards the stalls near the water where the first steps of their slaughter began. Corvo put a hand over his face to shield against the stench. At least in Dunwall, they had covered slaughterhouses to contain the worst of the mess. 

Once ashore, Corvo made his way through the neighborhood of Campo Seta. It was a working-class area, near the docks and centrally located. It wouldn’t be hard to find a room for rent around here— preferably, something with a landlord who didn’t ask for references if he paid in advance.

The mid-day sun beat down on his back as Corvo stopped to take in the neighborhood. There had been a lot of new construction since he was here last. But then, most buildings within the city had gone up within the last several decades to accommodate the population boom of the last half century. The Karnaca he knew as a boy was vanishing.

He kept walking. Things change. There was no sense getting worked up about it.

Corvo wandered, soaking it all in and getting reacquainted with the city. Getting lost in the bustle of a crowd was a novel experience after so many years as the Royal Protector. He took his time, inhaling the aroma of frying fish from a food stall and listening to the sound of guitar player on the corner. He knew better to draw attention to himself like this— loitering in a public square with a bag slung over his shoulder signaled “up to no good” to any shopkeeper paying attention— but still, he lingered.

He was home. And yet, it wasn’t home anymore was it?

Corvo turned towards the water and shielded his eyes from the sun. He had a clear view of Point Abele. The glittering new Gand Palace, a modern eyesore commissioned by Luca Abele, sat on the spot where Duke Theodanis’ old residence used to be.

The new palace was all dark wood and white plaster, shiny glass and sharp angles. It looked more like a pretentious sculpture than a home. And it cost the island an exorbitant sum of coin according to the reports he’d seen. The ample reserves of the Serkonos Treasury, fostered with great care over the decades by Theodanis Abele, had been depleted in a matter of a few short years by his son.

And when the reserves ran out, Luca began to squeeze the island itself. The mines bled silver and dust around the clock now.

Corvo kicked himself. He knew things were deteriorating under Luca Abele, but it had been so easy to shift those reports into the “worry about it later” pile on the side of his opulent desk, inside his lushly appointed office, inside the safety of Dunwall Tower. It was “a matter best left to the local authorities” so long as the silver flowed into Gristol.

He told himself that the Serkonan people wouldn’t take well to an Empress they’d never met coming to their island and throwing her weight around with their Duke, even if he wasn’t well-liked. And Corvo wasn’t wrong. A public display of power from Emily wouldn’t have been well-received in Serkonos. But perhaps if Abele had felt the fingers of Dunwall Tower on the back on his neck from time to time, he wouldn’t have had the courage to make a grab for power from the shadows. He’d be even bolder now that he thought Emily’s Spymaster was dead.

A sense of morbid curiosity drove Corvo to a newsstand. He didn’t have to search long to find an article on the matter.

> _According to the surviving crewmen, Captain G. Farrlow and Royal Protector, Corvo Attano, perished during their efforts to help the crew safely to their lifeboats. Both men will be honored posthumously in a ceremony at Dunwall Tower._
> 
> _Empress Emily Kaldwin announced earlier today that The Royal Protector is scheduled to be laid to rest next to the late Empress Jessamine Kaldwin. This decision has reignited speculation about the nature of Lord Attano’s relationship with the late Empress._
> 
> _Many among Gristol’s nobility have long been opposed to a ruler of questionable paternity, though there is historical precedence for someone of illegitimate parentage to hold the throne. In a recent interview with Parliamentary leaders—_

Corvo stopped reading as the article descended into political gossip. He needed to focus on why he was here.

He made his way north to Alma’s house.

Corvo approached from a side street, where he could view the block and watch from a distance.

It was a small, well-kept house on the edges of the city. Old construction, but solid— built before the population boom. Standalone homes within the city were uncommon for anyone but the wealthy nowadays, but Corvo found Alma a place near where the Grand Serkonan Canal and the smaller Seta Canal forked. It was an older neighborhood, with older buildings and older people. A little slice of Old Karnaca.

The two bedroom bungalow sat amidst a ring of trees that provided plenty of shade. The side yards each had a small garden and there was a rickety tool shed— probably a repurposed outhouse from before the days of indoor plumbing— against the back door.

Corvo smiled softly as someone emerged from the house.

Alma looked good. One of the many knots in his gut uncoiled at the sight of her. He’d hoped she was doing as well as she claimed in her letters, and not just telling him what he wanted to hear. Seeing it for himself was a relief.

Her grey hair was pulled back from her face as she dug around in a small vegetable garden on the side of the house. There were thin wrinkles around her eyes and laughter lines creased her face. Even in the tree-shaded yard, her skin was pink from the sun. Alma smiled to herself as she watered the soil and plucked insects from the tender leaves of sprouting herbs. It warmed him to see her living happily.

She didn’t see him standing in the shadows of the neighboring building and he watched her for a while. He told himself it was caution. He couldn’t be too careful with his investigation and Alma, with her prior connection to Dunwall Tower, could be under surveillance.

Hours passed and there were no signs of anyone else watching the house. Alma went indoors to prepare dinner for herself and he waited another hour to make sure it was safe.

Corvo knocked on the front door with three taps in quick succession, then two more. After a short pause, the door flung open.

Alma stared for a moment, frozen and suspicious. But when recognition finally set in, she broke into a wide grin.

“Lord Cor—” Alma cut herself off and raised a shaking hand to her face. “You,” she said with a blooming smile. “Get in here.”

She ushered him inside and into a very comfortable living space. The furnishings were common but clean and the house was dry— no signs of leaking roof tiles or water damage near the windows. Knick knacks and mementos lined the shelves— dried flowers, shells from the canal, a stone that was shaped like a bird. The smell of fish stew lingered in the air. The house was a home.

“You look good, Alma,” he said as he accepted a small cup of warm tea.

“You look… different,” she finally laughed. “Took me a few moments to place you.”

Corvo chuckled. “That’s the point. I’m uh—” he cleared his throat and drew his eyes away from his cup. “I’m here on business.”

“Well that’d explain your untimely demise.” Alma leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. “Something big is happening for you to pull a stunt like that.” Her eyes widened. “Does Lady Emily know that you’re—”

“She does,” Corvo assured her. “What I’m here for requires secrecy, but I’d never… I couldn’t do that to her.”

Alma relaxed. “Good.” There was an awkward few moments of silence before she asked, “I’m guessing you need a favor.”

Corvo felt something heavy settle in his chest, and gently placed the cup down on the small side table. “I’m not here to make demands of you. I’m here to ask for your help, if you’ll give it.”

She raised an eye brow, unconvinced.

“I mean it,” he said. “You have a good life here. It looks quiet. You seem happy.”

“I am.” Alma bit her lip nervously. “Happiest I’ve ever been, truth be told. And I’ve got you to thank for that.”

“And I’m not here to take any of that away, Alma. This is yours.”

“I know,” she said softly. “But it’s not easy to refuse a favor asked by the Royal Protector, especially when he’s the one who gave me this. And whatever you’re about to ask for is big, isn’t it?”

Corvo nodded. “There’s something happening in Karnaca.”

“And you need eyes and ears.”

“Not necessarily yours,” he said. Alma didn’t have any experience being a spy but she could do other things— pick up dead drops, pass messages, make inquiries. “You’re not the only person who’s retired well and moved to Karnaca.”

Alma smiled mischievously. “And here I thought I was special.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect the next update on **Sunday, May 28.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this went up a little later than expected. Life happened this weekend and I didn't get to start the edit/rewrite process until this morning. Look for Ch 6 next Sunday as well. Enjoy!

Corvo Attano was declared dead two weeks after he was lost at sea.

Emily kept up appearances as she exhausted all resources at her disposal to find her missing father. She called upon every ship the Imperial Navy had to spare to search the rocky archipelagos in the area where Corvo’s ship went down. Locals combed the beaches of western Gristol. But what began as a rescue operation eventually shifted into a search for a body.

High Admiral Harding finally advised Emily to cease operations after a close study of the currents and tides predicted the body had likely been taken too far out to sea to ever be recovered. She agreed, but refused food for two days after she called off the search.

There was a memorial ceremony for Corvo in the gardens at Dunwall Tower. He was given a plaque next to Jessamine’s and Emily laid a single rose at the base.

“May my father rest in peace.” Father. It felt so right to finally say that word aloud. There was no reason to hide it anymore. Her vision blurred as she shed genuine tears in front of both memorials. He should have been here to hear her say it. Corvo never complained, but Emily knew how much it would mean to him to be acknowledged in front of everyone.

Emily politely shook hands and accepted insincere condolences from bored nobles for hours. When she began to sway on her feet, Alexi called the ceremony to an end.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen!” Lieutenant Mayhew bellowed to the gathered crowd. “The Empress appreciates your attendance and shows of sympathy. This concludes the memorial ceremony. Members of the City Watch will escort you to the gates.”

Nobles filed out of the gardens slowly until Emily was left alone with her retinue of personal guards and High Overseer Khulan.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Lady Emily. Truly.” Khulan sighed and glanced around. Vice Overseer Byrne and some of the other representatives were making their way to the exits, escorted by Captain Ramsey. “I know Corvo wasn’t fond of the Abbey or the Strictures, but he was a good man. That’s not a popular sentiment within our ranks, so I hope you’ll forgive me for relaying my condolences privately.”

Emily nodded. “I understand. And you’re right. He wasn’t fond of the Abbey but he was—” Her throat went tight. “He was fond of you. He thought you were the best High Overseer we’ve had in recent memory. He respected you, even when he disagreed with you.”

“It was mutual. He’ll be missed.” Khulan bowed respectfully and dismissed himself.

The breeze tickled Emily’s cheeks and she turned her gaze to the Wrenhaven. The wind was blowing from the south and she wondered where Corvo was right now. Had he made it to Karnaca yet?

A gentle hand on her elbow snapped her from her thoughts. “You must be tired,” Alexi offered.

Emily nodded and allowed herself to be escorted to her chambers atop Dunwall Tower. Years ago, she’d seen the atrocious “safe room” that was installed under Hiram Burrows remodeled into a throne room with her private living quarters attached. It was a decision Corvo approved of for security reasons and a change of sleeping arrangements that Emily needed of for personal reasons.

The Empress’ suite in the main Tower had the Royal Protector’s quarters located right next door. That arrangement worked out conveniently enough for her mother, but was incredibly inconvenient if Emily ever wanted to have a personal life. So, Corvo had taken up residence in the Empresses’ Suite and turned his old room into an office. Meanwhile, Emily got the privacy she wanted in her new quarters above the throne room.

But now, glancing up to the empty chambers of the Royal Protector, her heart sank. She reassured herself that this wasn’t permanent. Corvo was coming back. She’d have a lot of explaining to do when he returned, but he was coming back. He had to.

Once Emily was settled in her rooms she dismissed the guards, except for Alexi, and they sat together as the sun set over the city. Emily would have gone mad if she’d hadn’t been able to confide in her these last few weeks. She wondered if that was one of the reasons Corvo chose to read Alexi in on the operation.

Captain Ramsey was being kept in the dark about what was really going on. Neither Emily nor Corvo fully trusted that man. Ramsey might not be conspiring to overthrow her, but she doubted he’d take a blade for her either. But Alexi would.

The thought of that made her hands go cold, despite the cup of tea warming her palms.

“You need to relax,” Alexi said, breaking the silence. “He’s not really gone.”

Emily scowled. “I know that. I just—” She hung her head and rubbed her temples with the tips of her immaculately manicured fingers. “I don’t know where in Karnaca he is, or how he was going to travel there after the shipwreck.” Emily stared out at the dimming sky. “It was safest if no one knew. Not even me. But if this conspiracy is bigger than we thought, or if he trusts the wrong people— if his spies can’t be trusted…” Her teeth ground together under the strain of her clenched jaw.

Alexi reached for her hand, but stopped just short of touching it. “He’s smart and he’s tough. More than that, he’s got good instincts. It won’t be easy for people to get one over on Lord Corvo.”

“But without any way to contact him we don’t know if—”

Alexi huffed and stood up. “That’s it. You’re going to stop fretting right now.”

Emily went still. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Alexi grinned and took a step forward. “I promised the Royal Protector I’d protect you, and I take that vow seriously. So this is me, protecting you from those spinning gears in your head.”

“You promised him that, did you?”

“I did.” Alexi leaned against the small side table. “You know, when he was going over all the contingencies and the protocols with me, he also told me something I didn’t quite believe.”

“Oh?”

Alexi brushed some lint from her uniform. “He told me some wild tale about _you_ being a half-decent fighter.” 

“ _Half_ -decent?” Emily shoulder’s went tight.

Alexi’s eyes sparkled. “It was just before he left. He took me aside and said it was top secret, but that he’d been training you for years.” She pushed off and took a step towards Emily. “He said you’re pretty good with a blade and a pistol. But he said where you really shined… was hand-to-hand.”

Alexi lashed out with a jab, lightning quick. Emily blocked, but only just, and spun up and out of her chair an instant before Alexi’s foot connected to the upholstered seat.

Emily gasped and her feet moved into position without a second thought, hands up and hovering over her face for protection. “Did you just—” She lashed out with a jab of her own but Alexi was fast and flowed around her fist like liquid. “That would have been the toe of your boot in my crotch!” Emily hissed.

“This isn’t ballroom dancing, Highness,” Alexi teased.

She lashed out again but this time Emily was ready for it and countered. Alexi was like water, moving one direction and somehow coming from another. Emily fought defensively, not allowing her to land any blows but barely able to hold her ground. This was nothing like sparing with her father.

Corvo was larger and stronger than her, but Emily was always the faster of the two of them. She didn’t have that advantage now.

Alexi had the benefit of years of training with a wider variety of opponents. Emily found herself struggling to anticipate her moves.But Emily did have one advantage. Even though she only ever had a single training partner, that one partner was Corvo Attano.

She and Alexi continued to exchange quick jabs and rough grapples, and Emily held her own. Alexi was good, but she was also wearing out, showing off her own skills more than she was studying Emily’s. Finally, there was an opening.

Emily’s feet moved on their own— the rhythm of these movements are burned into her muscles after years of practice— and she backed away step by step as Alexi pushed forward in her assault. But Emily wasn’t retreating. She swayed. She bounced on the balls of her feet and glided from one leg to another in a pattern that Alexi didn’t recognize. Alexi pressed forward, seeming to think she had Emily on the ropes.

She didn’t. Just before Emily was back up against the wall, she used the momentum of her fluid movements to propel herself… downward. Emily kicked up with one leg as she let herself fall the the floor. She caught herself on ad extended arm just before impact and whipped airborne leg around. She spiraled, spun, and kept two points of contact to the ground as her foot connected with Alexi’s chest.

Emily launched herself back to her feet and in an instant and pounced on top of a floored Alexi. “Yield,” she huffed, hand on her opponent’s throat.

Alexi tapped three times and Emily fell to the side. They lay huffing for breath on the floor, and smiling for the first time in days.

“What in the Void was that kick?” Alexi asked, amazed.

Emily turned her head to Alexi and smirked. “Ballroom dancing. Serkonan- style.”

The laughter bubbled up from their lips and flowed until their sides were aching and sore.

“Thank you, Alexi.” Emily sat up. “I needed that.” She sighed. “I’m sorry I’ve been so…”

“Pensive? Moody?”

“Yes.”

“Sullen? Morose. Dour.” Alexi continued, lips quirking upwards.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Emily said sharply, though her face remained soft. “With Corvo gone, I’m thinking more about my mother than I have in years. I keep wondering if I’m the ruler she would have wanted me to be. And the more I ask myself that question, the more I question myself.” She rubbed her fists against her reddening eyes.

“That’s not a bad thing,” Alexi said. “Rulers who never question their own competence aren’t fit to rule.”

“Yes, but I’m— I’m just just one person. I’m responsible for so much, and I’ve let so much slide over the last month because if I didn’t seem convincingly frantic about Corvo, someone would suspect.” Her breath quickened. “I’ve let ambassadors stew in their guest rooms while I ignored them. I’ve let court matters be passed off to barristers to sort out.”

Alexi’s success at calming her down was quickly coming undone. “All of that, so he can prevent a coup. And when I’m alone at night I think about about the fact that I just lied to an entire empire. I wasted the time and resources in a search I knew was fruitless. And for what?”

“To keep this empire stable and safe.” Alexi’s face hardened. “These people he’s investigating aren’t coming to you with legitimate grievances and seeking reforms. They’re plotting in the shadows.” She scooted closer. “Lord Corvo suspects they’re behind at least one murder of a prominent citizen. Who knows what else he’ll find.” She gently rested a hand on Emily’s shoulder and squeezed. “You’re not perfect. But just because you have doubts doesn’t mean you’re unfit.”

Emily hung her head, too choked up to respond.

“I remember when you were sixteen and fearless, beating a man over the head with a rail tie.” Alexi drew her knees to her chest and folded her arms around them. “Where did _that_ Emily Kaldwin go?”

“I don’t know.” Emily’s voice was soft as she sat upright. “I woke up one morning with the confidence of someone who’d just won a great battle.” She ran a hand through her mussed hair. “My mind was focused and I had a plan for myself. Corvo started training me. Everything was coming together. And now…”

“Lord Corvo will set this right and you’ll—”

“Corvo won’t be around forever,” Emily interrupted. “The ceremony today— even though it wasn’t real— it made me realize that one day it will be.”She fought to steady her trembling hands. “I’m barely competent enough to hold onto the throne with a Royal Protector and Spymaster whom I trust completely. Once he’s gone…” She released a shaky breath. “Well, I’m not a fool.”

Alexi frowned. “By the time he’s gone— _decades_ from now— you’ll be a different person. You’re still young. You’re learning.”

“Yes,” Emily snapped. “I’m still learning. Still. After preparing for this position my entire life, I’m _still_ not ready.” She tugged on her hair. “Every trade negotiation, tax proposal, and social cause that crosses my desk is over my head. I have to consult experts about everything. They smile and dumb things down for me.” Her fingers dug into her palms. “I’m twenty-two!” she hissed. “I feel like an imposter every single day I sit on that throne and act like I know what I’m doing there.”

Alexi stared at the floor and they sat in silence for a long time. Finally, she spoke.“Lady Emily. I have to tell you something.”

Emily took a deep breath and the stinging in her eyes faded. “What is it?”

Alexi picked at the fine stitching on her sleeves. “All those years ago, when I saved your life…”

“When you threw a live grenade back at one of the Regenters, you mean,” Emily said with a fond smile.

Alexi sighed. “Yes. Well, when that happened… the thing is…” She scratched at the back of her neck. “I thought it was rock.”

Emily was silent as she let those words sink in. “What?”

Alexi huffed a nervous laugh. “I was sixteen and scrappy and even though I knew the situation was serious… I was just a kid. When I heard something land at my feet… I only saw it out of the corner of my eye before I grabbed it. I didn’t know what else to do but hit them between the eyes as hard as I could.” Alexi dabbed her eyes.

“I wasn’t brave that day. Or even reckless. I was just a stupid kid who didn’t realize I was holding a live grenade until it was already leaving my hand.” Her lip trembled. “When it was over, everyone called me a hero! I wanted to live up to that, so I never told the truth.” She shyly met Emily’s eyes. “You’re not the imposter. I am. And I understand if you want to relieve me of my position—”

Emily wrapped her arms around Alexi and held tightly. “Lieutenant Mayhew, be quiet this instant,” she said, voice muffled in Alexi’s shoulder. After a few seconds Emily pulled back. She gently grabbed Alexi’s chin. “Do you mean to tell me that when our carriage was being attacked by men with guns, you threw what you thought was rock at them?” Emily choked back tears, half from emotion and half from laughter. “And you think you’re not brave?”

Alexi paused. “You’re not angry?”

Emily shook her head. “Never.”

* * *

In a sparsely furnished room in the center of Campo Seta, Corvo sweltered in the afternoon heat. He leaned back in his rickety chair and angled himself at the crossing of currents from the open window and the mounted fan in the corner. He’d forgotten how hot Karnaca could be. And it wasn’t even the height of summer yet!

The breeze was barely cooler than his sweat-slicked skin but it was enough to give some mild relief. He discarded his itchy shirt hours ago and now he was barefoot as he rolled up the legs on his loose trousers to the knee.

Corvo picked at the brown bread and overripe plantains he’d bought from the market earlier. They were the cheapest items on the shelves and since he was pretending to be a bit down on his luck he needed to shop like it. He resisted the temptation to pick up a jar of rosewater jelly or a tin of candied beetles. He never had the money for those sots of things when he was growing up and now that he had the coin, he couldn’t risk drawing attention to himself with the purchase.

He pouted and chewed on another crust of bread while he waited for Alma to check in about placing Norman and Jana in new jobs. Corvo had been busy the last few weeks gathering as much intelligence as he could without raising any eyebrows.

~~~~~~~~

The markets in Campo Seta were a good place to hear gossip and Corvo had started there.

People seemed worried about the doctor who’d gone missing: Alexandria Hypatia. She used to provide low-cost treatment to people in the neighborhood but she stopped seeing patients a few months ago. The miners were in dire need of her services now that their hours were lengthened and safety conditions were worse than ever.

The official story was that Hypatia was engaged in important research at Addermire Institute. It was located on a rocky island in the harbor and not easy to get to. So, Corvo eavesdropped on some off-duty guardsman who were drinking after their shifts there.

“I thought it’d be a cushy posting, but that place is creepy. How do you guys stand it?” one of the Grand Guard asked his fellows over darts and drinks.

“It _is_ a cushy posting,” one of the other guards said. “There’s only one way on or off the island. Just patrol the grounds so the Duke feels like we’re doing something. Easiest job you could want.”

The first guard tossed his dart. The shot went wide. “I know it’s easy. That’s the problem. It’s… weird.”

The other guard went still. “How so?”

“All but a few of the staff getting dismissed like that?”

The guard shrugged. “Addermire doesn’t need a full staff anymore. Now that it’s just the doc, her assistant and a few others it’d be wasteful to keep everyone on.” His shot hit the target near center.

“Sure. But it’s just as wasteful to have two dozen men patrolling an island with one point of access, to protect a woman we never see.” The next shot went wide again.

The second guard smiled tightly. “Hypatia’s busy. Something with bloodflies, I think.” He shrugged. “Maybe she’s close to finding a cure for the venom and the Duke wants her to hurry before the season hits?”

The first guard scratched his head. “Yeah, I suppose if she’s close to finding a way to get rid of those damned things it’d be worth keeping her focused.”

His friend slapped him on the back and grinned. “See? We’re doing a service making sure no one distracts her. Now, next round on me.”

In the back corner of the bar, Corvo narrowed his eyes. There was definitely something off at Addermire then, with some guards in-the-know and others not.

But was it related to the conspiracy? Or was the doctor avoiding her patients for some other reason?

For weeks, Corvo tried to find evidence of money or unusual supplies going to Addermire, but there was nothing. The only people who came and went from the island were Grand Guard personnel. The doctor and a few support staff lived there full-time now. The supplies that went to the island were just basic necessities and there was no sign of coin flowing to the doctor either.

Whatever was going on with Hypatia could be unrelated, and Corvo needed to focus on the people he knew were involved with Duke Abele.

For the time being, Corvo let it drop.

~~~~~~~~

At a cafe in Cyria Gardens, Corvo sipped a mug of tea and watched sparrows flit around in a fountain as he eavesdropped on some employees of the Royal Conservatory. Like a lot of people who needed to unwind after along day, they were talking shop and venting their frustrations.

“—and the Tyvian exhibits, too! Ms. Ashworth’s practically stopped caring about presentation. I dunno what’s gotten into her.”

“I’m pretty sure I know what’s gotten _into_ her,” one of the men chuckled. “Duke Abele. Late meetings in her office, messages by courier a few times a week, packages going directly to her office?”

One of the women scoffed. “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh really?” He leaned across the table. “You think they’re discussing the Duke’s interest in science ’til all hours?”

She rolled her eyes. “Hardly. But whatever is going on, they aren’t sleeping together.”

“You can’t know that for sure,” one of the women said. “Maybe the Duke wanted all that grant money to go towards… a different type of exhibit.”

The woman from before, a few glasses of wine deep, dragged her hands down her face. “Ugh. I’m not saying the Duke wouldn’t try, but Ashworth would shove all that coin down his throat if he did. I’m telling you, whatever they’re doing behind closed doors, it isn’t sex.”

The group went quiet and everyone exchanged knowing glances. The man from before was the one to finally speak. “And you know this how, Rosemary?”

The woman blushed and took a long sip of her wine. “Let’s just say, he’s not her type.”

“Oooooohhhhh!” the group howled.

“Shut up, you bastards,” she hissed. “It’s over! It ended a year ago, I’m just saying—”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” cried one of the others. “Details! We need details!”

Rosemary groaned and reached for the carafe of wine.

Corvo scowled. This was confirmation that the money Ashworth was getting from the Duke wasn’t being put into the Conservatory. She was working on some special project for him. But what?

~~~~~~~~

Santiago fishery was the topic of hot gossip at the bars in Lower Aventa and Corvo listened to an endless stream of employees, current and former, complain about the working conditions.

“If they’d just pay to fix the damn pipes we could shower after a shift, not track fish guts halfway across the city trying to find a place to clean up.” The man took another swig of beer.

“Cheap bastards,” another agreed. “They raised prices again too. Where’s that money going? Not to us, that’s for sure.”

The first man finished his drink and waved the bartender over for another. “I hear they’re buying red shark from a third-party now. Can’t catch our own since they’re too cheap to buy new fishing boats!”

“Wasteful,” one of the men lamented.

Interesting. Raising prices and cutting costs. Profits would be soaring so where was that money going?

Santiago fishery used to be one of the largest employers in the city but its business was on the decline. Several of Santiago’s whaling and fishing vessels had been damaged in storms during the last rainy season and were never repaired. It crippled their fresh catch operations!

But Santiago made more money from fish farming than from the fresh caught hauls. After all, if a fish was going to be jellied and tinned no one much cared if it was pulled from a tank. And yet, the fish farms were losing money too. Between dying clutches and algae growths, Santiago fishery wasn’t doing well and hundreds of workers were feeling the pinch.

Luckily, they were losing enough people to walk-outs that there were job openings, and Corvo found himself gainfully employed. For a few days anyway. That was how long it took for him to determine that whatever the owners of Santiago fisheries were up to, it wasn’t related to the conspiracy.

Oh, it looked suspicious at first. Workers’ pay was cut every other month. Maintenance on boats and essential equipment was left to unqualified people after the maintenance staff walked out. The marine biologist who kept the crop of seafood healthy quit half a year ago. Affter a few days working there, Corvo didn’t blame her.

The Santiago family was charging more and more for their products and putting less and less into producing them. The extra money could have been going to the Duke’s coup efforts.

But it wasn’t. He snuck in after hours and found the books for the business— the real ones, not the ones they used to avoid paying their full share of taxes— and Corvo found that this was a case of good old-fashioned mismanagement. The family was deeply in debt and keeping their personal fortune afloat by cutting costs at the fishery.

Mystery solved, Corvo quit the next day. And he stole a tin of fermented redshark on his way out.

~~~~~~~~

The saloons in the mining district were the most depressing of anywhere on the island.

“I’ve had it, man. I’m not goin’ back,” a shaken miner growled into his mug. “That beam was inches away from my head when it fell. I coulda died.”

“I don’t blame you for wanting to quit, but what’re you gonna do for work?” one of the others asked.

“Dunno. Probably make my way over to the Crone’s Hand and… ask around.”

The table went silent.

“You don’t mean you’re gonna join up with Paolo’s crew?”

The man slammed back the rest of his drink. “Maybe. I dunno. It can’t be any worse under him than working for Caruso.”

One of his friends shook his head. “There’s weird rumors about that Paolo guy.”

“Not this again,” another grumbled.

“I heard it from Lena and from Dominic!” He leaned forward and tried to whisper. “They say Paolo’s a witch. I’d rather die in the mines than have my bones used to make idols of the Outsider.”

“Pretty sure he spread those rumors himself,” someone chimed in. “To scare people and build a reputation.”

“Naw, there’s something off about him,” another said. “I heard he got his skull split open by last month by some hired muscle guarding the safe company. Only, Paolo came back the next day— not a scratch on him— with more guys and…” He gulped. “That hired muscle ended up in the harbor.”

Everyone looked into their glasses.

“I wish Mr. Stilton was still here,” someone finally said.

“Me too,” replied the first man. “He knew how to get the most outta the mines without killing a man to get it.”

Most of the conversations Corvo heard in the mining district were like this. Things were getting bad and a local gang— the Howlers, they called themselves— were starting to carve out bits of the neighborhood. It wasn’t so shocking, really. Gangs always moved in when an area destabilized, and the Batista Mining District was destabilizing quickly without Aramis Stilton. Although if their leader really was a witch, that could be trouble.

~~~~~~~~

Today, Alma was meeting with hiring managers all over the city to get Norman and Jana’s resumes in the hands of the right people. Ideally, one or both of them would get noticed by the Personnel Manager at the Grand Palace. But if not there, having one of them close to any ally of Duke Abele would be a benefit.

Now Corvo had to wait.

He leaned back again, exposing his neck to the mild breeze. As much as he missed his long hair, the shorter cut was much cooler. But the breeze wasn’t the only thing that wafted through the open window.

Someone was playing a violin in the upper floor apartment of the small building around the corner. He couldn’t see the musician but the sound carried well enough. The notes were slow and carefully paced, but the tune was unfamiliar. He’d been away from home too long and didn’t know the latest music. Or maybe it was an original composition?

Corvo reclined in the humid afternoon heat and listened to the tune wrap around the breeze. It was soft, almost mournful, but light enough not to be too depressing. It reminded him of regrets, acceptance, and moving on.

When the song finally ended Corvo exhaled slowly and felt a tightness in his chest ease ever so slightly. He leaned out the window, clapped his hands sharply a few times and whistled for an encore. The sudden scraping sound of a chair told him the player around the corner had heard his applause.

“Do Leviathan’s Wail!” he called out playfully.

A gravelly voice answered back, “Yeah, sure.”

When the music began again it was Drunken Whaler, played mockingly slow and in the wrong key.

Corvo laughed. Apparently his neighbor didn’t do requests.

A soft knock at his door shook him from his thoughts. Three taps, then two more. He opened the door for Alma. Her eyes went wide when she saw his state of undress but she did an admirable job of keeping her focus on his face. She was dressed in a smart-looking suit, and definitely looked the part of a Temporary Employment Representative.

“Any luck?” he asked. He pulled out a chair for her to sit in and closed the window.

“I got everyone’s resumes into the hands of the right people. Norman’s work for Mr. Bunting was exactly what they’re looking for at the Conservatory. He starts there next week.”She fanned herself in the stuffy apartment. “That Mr. Jindosh is such a nightmare to work for, his mansion bleeds servants. Jana starts _tomorrow_ in housekeeping.” She bit her lip. “As for the Grand Palace…”

“No luck?” Corvo frowned and leaned against the wall. The Palace was where he needed eyes and ears the most.

“I tried. It was the first place I went. But the Duke has certain off-the-record requirements for female staff.”

Corvo cocked his head. “Like what?”

Alma rolled her eyes. “He only hires young and pretty, and Jana is pushing fifty. He doesn’t care much about the looks of the men, so I put Norman’s credentials in front of Personnel Manager. There was a groundskeeper position open but the guy skipped right over the file. I didn’t wanna risk it by pushing the issue.”

Alma was right to let it go. If she pushed too hard, they risked being exposed. “It’s alright. You’ve done more than enough, Alma. I know Ashworth is involved somehow, so Norman is in a good position. I suspect Jindosh knows something given how much work he does for the Duke. And even if he’s not involved personally, having Jana there puts her in a good position to find out who is.”

Alma adjusted herself in the chair and glanced to the floor. “I’m lucky, you know. I own a house. I’ve got savings to live on for the rest of my days, long as I stick to a budget. But I only got that as a gift. Try as I might, I never would’ve been able to earn it. But, from what I hear, it used to not be too unusual for people to have those things in _this_ city. Miners actually got retirement. Aramis Stilton threw parties when it happened. But since the new Duke took over a few years ago… Void, over the last few months since Stilton’s been gone…” She pulled her greying hair away from the back her neck. “Mostly they just get too old or sick to work, and then they die.”

Corvo knew what life used to be like in Karnaca. It was never idilic or grand— his nostalgia didn’t color his memories an overly rosy picture. But the desperation in the air wasn’t like it was now. Things had been declining ever since Duke Theodanis died. But the disappearance of Aramis Stilton sharpened the razor’s edge upon which the city balanced.

Without Stilton to keep the other mine owners in line, they were running amuck. They threw men and boys into the mines like wood into a furnace and watched silver and dust rise from their ashes. Corvo hated to think it, but Aramis Stilton was probably dead. He may have stood up to the Duke and paid the price with his life.


	6. Chapter 6

Corvo had intended to wait a while longer before he donned his infamous mask. He really had.

The smart thing to do would be to let his spies spend a few weeks— or even months— gathering whatever information they could about the Duke and his allies. But since he didn’t have anyone inside the Grand Palace it might take a while before they had access to anything useful. Plus, the thought of sitting inside his stuffy rented room for one more evening made his skin itch.

So, after Alma left him that afternoon, Corvo prepared to visit the mining district again. Stilton was the key to this. He just knew it.

He left his dingy apartment building in normal streetwear and carried his mask, weapons and darker clothing in a satchel across his back. He’d heard his neighbors whispering about a new shop near the waterfront— the type that sold anything to anyone, no questions asked. Corvo had most of what he needed already, but it never hurt to have extra. 

Symbols scribbled on the sides of buildings and back alleys led him to the basement entrance of an unremarkable looking building. He climbed the stairs to the ground level and, in a space that had once been a lobby, he entered a makeshift storefront. It had a simple wooden counter with bars running into the ceiling above it and a gated window set up for exchanging goods.

Corvo stopped in his tracks when he recognized the man standing behind that gated window. Horatio Weatherby. He was running a black market shop to get by now? Corvo smirked. This was quite the change of lifestyle.

Weatherby came from old money in Dunwall and moved to Karnaca when the plague began spreading out of the slums and closer to his neighborhood. He’d lived here ever since and enjoyed a lavish lifestyle at the expense of the Serkonan workforce. But a few bad investments decimated his inherited fortune two years ago.

Weatherby had been a thorn in Emily and Corvo’s sides ever since. He blamed his failed investments on Emily’s inter-island trade policies and ranted to anyone who would listen. But what brought Weatherby to Corvo’s attention were his angry editorials. At least once a month, he penned letters to the papers in Karnaca and Dunwall insulting everything from Emily’s mental competence to her fashion sense.

In fact, a local gazette printed one of Weatherby’s rants the other day. He called upon Parliament to convene a special session to determine Emily’s emotional stability after the loss of her father. Corvo had rolled his eyes when he read it, but he had no doubt there were some politicians in Dunwall who would jump at the chance to unseat Emily while she was vulnerable.

He ground his teeth. Corvo didn’t have any reason to suspect Weatherby of being a part of the conspiracy, but he made a mental note not to rule him out as Weatherby waved him forward to the dusty counter.

“Now before we begin,” Weatherby drawled, “I’ll need to see that you have the coin to pay.”

Corvo raised a brow. “Oh?”

“You’re new to the neighborhood and word is things disappear when you’re around. So—”

“Excuse me?” Corvo bristled.

Weatherby frowned. “Shopkeepers talk to each other and several of my colleagues say that things went missing in their stores when you were there. So, I’ll see some coin upfront before we do business.”

He was a new face in the neighborhood, so Corvo understood the suspicion. But this was the second time he’d been called a thief and it rankled. Still, Corvo bit his tongue and slapped a heavy bag of coin onto the counter.

Weatherby smiled, satisfied, and pulled contraband from some crates on the floor. He set up up an impromptu displaybehind the bars of the cage.

Corvo requested crossbow bolts, pistol bullets, sedative darts and high-end grenades. Weatherby served him with an oily smile and accepted his coin without question. Corvo had half a mind to turn him over to the Grand Guard, but he suspected they knew about this little operation already. And he might need the shop later.

Getting to the mining district took longer than it should have because half the carriage rails were out of service. Corvo had to make the last leg of the trip on foot, careful to keep a steady pace and walk with purpose. Gawking like a tourist would make people notice him.

Once he was near Stilton’s manor, Corvo slunk into the shadows of a nearby alley and transversed to the rooftop where he changed into darker clothing. It wasn’t tailored to his body like his uniform was, and Corvo briefly missed the fine materials and perfect fit. But that outfit would be too conspicuous.

Corvo waited in the shadows atop an apartment building that overlooked the fortified entrance to Aramis Stilton’s manor. Rumor had it the door was impenetrable, secured with a special lock designed by the Royal Inventor. Jana’s placement at Jindosh’s mansion was fortunate then. Perhaps she could discover a trick to opening the mechanism. But before Corvo could even think of all the possible ways to sneak inside, he saw movement and the door swung open… from the inside!

He scrambled to adjust the lenses in his mask to get a clearer view of the stranger’s face. The man was ordinary looking, dressed in street clothes; no uniform or anything to identify him with. He carried an empty sack and slunk through the shadows of the windbreak walls further into the district.

Corvo followed him from the balconies and rooftops of the surrounding buildings.

“Hey, Durante!” someone called out. A woman with tattoos all over her arms and chest jogged out to greet him around the next corner. She slapped him on the back hard enough that Durante stumbled a step.

“Mindy! Just got done.”

“Good,” she said with a crooked smile. “Paolo says to hit the merchants on the east side of the street before you come back. Protection fees, plus whatever else you can scare them into coughing up. Consider it your cut.”

Durante threw his head back and laughed. “Paolo knows how to motivate! I’ll be back at the saloon in a few hours then. That dentist always gives me trouble.”

Mindy nodded and hurried back across the street. Durante turned east and made his way to a Winslow Safes vendor. Mindy and Durante weren’t the only Howlers out on the prowl. From his vantage point, Corvo could see a lookout stationed on every single block— seemingly ordinary citizens loitering near intersections but whose eyes were too sharp to be merely passing time. The Howlers were out in force in the district. And they were organized.

Corvo shadowed Durante as he entered shop after run-down shop. He left with his satchel a bit heavier each time. By the time Durante left a local dentist’s office— his sack full of coin the a dentist missing a few teeth— Corvo had seen enough. He waited until Durante was cutting through an empty side street and struck the man on the back of the head. He caught Durante before he hit the ground.

It was only after he popped up to the roof of the nearest building, unconscious body in tow, that Corvo realized he was close to his old home. The apartment building where grew up was one street over. On a whim, he carried Durante there.

It was abandoned. The entrances had large boards covering them, even as the lights glittered around a plaque on the street-facing side of the building. The plaque read: Lord Corvo Attano. Made Royal Protector in 1817, was born here on the 25th day, Month of Nets, 1798.

Corvo found a window on the side of the building where the boards were coming loose and pried them free to sneak into his childhood apartment. His heart sank at the sight inside. It was a decaying mess— crumbling plaster on the walls, splintered furniture and layers of dust decades thick. Most of the personal possessions were gone. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but seeing his old home like this make his throat burn.

He propped Durante against the far wall and searched him. Folded cleverly inside the lining of his vest, there was a note with a series of names and items written in two columns. Corvo scrunched his face. Were these more people the Howlers intended to rob? He wouldn’t know until the man woke up.

Corvo kept one eye on Durante while he putted around the apartment and gave into the momentary nostalgia. He’d considered their living accommodations rather grand when he was a child. The rooms were spacious by the standards of the mining district, and the facilities serviceable. It was more than some people had back then. It was more than many had now.

Corvo ran his fingers along the peeling wallpaper and the dusty shelves as he felt himself sink into memory after memory. His mother’s room, always neat and tidy in life, was now in shambles. The bed frame sat half-collapsed and the dresser was missing all but one drawer. His fists were balled so tightly, Corvo could heat the bones crack.

He’d arranged for this place to be cleaned and held in his name after his mother passed. He assumed it had been taken care of! He’d even considered using this apartment as a base of operations while he investigated Karnaca but was afraid it would have made him too easy to find if anyone suspected he was still alive.

It was a good thing he hadn’t tried to use this place. It was on the verge of being condemned and Corvo had had no idea.

He felt his skin prickle with suppressed rage thinking about how much coin he transferred to some small-time local barrister who’d done almost nothing that had been asked of him. The man took his money and assumed Corvo would never come back to Karnaca to see that his wishes had been followed.

Corvo took a deep breath. It wouldn’t do any good to get upset about it. He was back now. He was going to take care of his home city and protect his daughter from this conspiracy no matter what he had to do. And the first step in taking care of them both was finding out what happened to Aramis Stilton.

* * *

When Durante groggily opened his eyes, Corvo made sure that was met with the face of the Masked Felon.

Durante inhaled a sharp breath before he went rigid and he tightened his jaw. “Not tellin’ you nothing, Overseer,” he spat.

“O—overseer?” Corvo was silent for a few beats and he dropped his intimidating stance. “You think I’m an Overseer?”

Durante squinted a bit. “I—uh… you cracked me over the head, man. I’m pretty blurry over here.” He leaned forward and cocked his head. “Wait, you ain’t an Overseer.”

Behind the mask, Corvo’s rolled his eyes. But he saw the exact moment when Durante’s vision and memory cleared enough for him to recognize the notorious mask. Those posters became famous throughout the isles after the plague.

“Aw, shit.” Durante tried to scramble backward but he was already against the wall. “I didn’t do nothing!” he cried. “I was walking down the street, minding my own business. You— you only go after fat nobles and people who got it coming. I hear the stories. So why me?”

Corvo ignored the obvious lies about Durante’s innocence. “Why you indeed?” Corvo mused, and lifted a finger to his chin in mock consideration. “What could you possibly have that I might want?”

“Take the money!” he exclaimed.

Corvo shook his head. “Think harder, Durante. What else could you have that I need?”

Durante went still. “You want Stilton.”

Corvo was grateful for the mask, because his face may have betrayed his shock otherwise. Stilton was still alive?

“Well, I don’t know what good he’ll be to you. Ain’t no one gonna pay ransom for him.” He patted the lining of his vest and his eyes widened. “I— the code! No! I just had it…”

Corvo held up the paper in his hands— the door code apparently— and sighed. “It’s not like that. I just need to talk to him.”

Durante laughed nervously. “Well then he definitely ain’t gonna do you any good.”

“Why not?”

“Something’s wrong with him,” Durante sputtered. “Bad wrong. He wanders the house, calling out for Duke Theodanis, and muttering nonsense. Paolo put me in charge of looking’ after him, like a babysitter.” Durante gulped. “But he kept trying to leave the house. He said he wanted to go to Theo, so I had to lock him in his bedroom and reinforce the doors. Come back one day to see him in the gardens. Turned out he busted straight through the floor.” He smiled a bit at the memory. “Fuckin’ beast, that guy. He’s locked in the music room now, trying to teach himself piano.”

Durante cast his gaze to his feet. “I told him Theo was coming to visit and he wanted to hear some music. So, he’s pretty occupied. I been feeding him every other day and he’s got a mattress. It’s the best I could do.”

Corvo curled his lip in disgust. “What happened to him?”

“Dunno.” Durante squirmed under Corvo’s gaze. “Honest. All I know is the Duke pays Paolo to make sure Stilton doesn’t get out. They killed all the servants who were there that night. A few of the guards escaped but the Duke is looking for ‘em. Whatever it was happened to Aramis Stilton they don’t want no witnesses running their mouths.”

So Emily was right. Taking Stilton’s mine wasn’t part of their plan. They wouldn’t have had a manor full of witnesses if it was. Something unexpected happened and they covered it up in a hurry. Taking Stilton’s mines was just a fortunate byproduct.

“What’s Paolo’s connection to the Duke?”

Durante cocked his head. “None. Paolo hates Abele for the way he’s ruining this island. But money is money.”

“So why would the Duke of Serkonos ask a small-time gang leader to care for Stilton?”

“‘Cause no one has the balls to ask Paolo what’s behind those doors. So the secret stays quiet. But also…” Durante chewed the inside of his cheek. “Paolo respected Stilton. Maybe the Duke figured he’d take decent care of him.”

Corvo still needed to make sure there was no deeper connection between Paolo and the Duke but he let it slide for now. “Why is the Duke keeping Stilton alive at all? People assume he’s dead. And if he’s no use to the Duke is his current… condition… why not finish it?”

Durante shrugged. “Stilton and Duke Theodanis were…” He trailed off. “I think the Duke, the new one, feels some obligation to Stilton because of his father.”

Corvo had heard the rumors about Stilton and Duke Theodanis. He wasn’t sure how much was true and how much was the work of Stilton’s business rivals attempting to discredit him. But the larger than life statue of Theodanis in the courtyard outside of Stilton’s manor hadn’t been placed there by the government. It was commissioned by Stilton himself.

Code to the locked door in hand, Corvo considered just walking away. But the Howlers were connected to the Duke— even if it wasn’t related to the conspiracy— and they were going to be a problem for this city eventually.

“I want to know about your boss, too.” He cracked his knuckles slowly. “Or are you going to be stubborn?”

Durante gulped and shook his head quickly. “Naw, I’m good. You want dirt on Paolo? I can tell you some wild stories.”

Corvo extended his hand as if to say ‘go on then.’

“Paolo, he uh, he’s got some strange tattoos.”

Corvo’s posture straightened. “Where? And what do they look like?”

Durante scrunched his eyebrows. “On his back, but I never seen ‘em myself.”

“Any tattoos on his hands?”

“No. I’ve seen both his hands. Mindy says the tats are all over his back. A star for everyone he kills. A bunch of other weird designs. But I’ve never seen what they are.”

Maybe Paolo had the Outsider’s Mark somewhere other than his hand? Or he could be dabbling in powerful magic on his own.

“What about these rumors he comes back from dead?”

Durante nodded. “I’ve seen him do it. We were ambushed by the Grand Guard. Paolo held them off while Mindy and I got away. I turned around and…” Durante was pale. “They stabbed him. Ran him clean through. I thought for sure Mindy was gonna run back into the thick of it and go out at his side, but she dragged me away. That’s when it happened. Paolo he…”

Durante’s voice went soft. “It sounds crazy, but he turned into rats. A swarm of rats.” He was shaking now. “When me and Mindy got back the the saloon, Paolo was drinking whisky in his office like nothing happened.”

Corvo’s gaze sharpened. That sounded awfully familiar. When he stopped Granny Rags from killing Slackjaw she’d dissolved into a swarm of vicious rodents in his arms. He had to choke her a second time for it to take. Did Paolo have similar powers?

* * *

Corvo made his way back to the entrance of Stilton’s locked manor. He stuck to the rooftops and the shadows, just in case Durante decided to call for reinforcements. He perched on an adjacent rooftop and studied the small courtyard around the locked-off manor. That’s when he noticed a flicker of movement and his eyes snapped into focus.

He crouched low. There was a shadow in the window of one of the apartments across from the manor. The building was boarded up from the ground floor and unless you were as high up as he was, there would be no way for anyone on the ground to see the mysterious person watching from the top floor. Whoever it was, they were staking out Stilton’s place. Had they seen Durante coming and going? Had they seen him following Durante earlier?

There was only one way to know.

Corvo crept around the side of the courtyard, rooftop to rooftop. The building in question was only recently abandoned, so the rooftop door to the stairs opened without much fuss. When he found the front-facing apartment, he slid inside silently and approached the mysterious figure form behind. It was a woman judging from the silhouette. 

He pulled his pistol and let her hear his final footfall just before the barrel pressed into her back.

“Turn around slowly,” he growled. “Hands where I can see them.”

“I’ll do my best,” she said, amused.

The figure turned slowly and raised her hands. Correction. Hand. Her right arm ended just past the elbow and a thick scar covered her face over the right eye. Once they were face-to-face, her good eye went wide and the woman inhaled a sharp breath.

“Who are you?” Corvo demanded. “And don’t bother trying to say you’re just a squatter.” He looked around the empty room. No food or bedding in sight. “You’re watching the entrance to Stilton’s. Why?”

The woman’s face relaxed slightly, as if she had expected him to ask something else. “My name is… Meagan Foster. And Aramis Stilton is a friend.”

A friend? Just who was this woman? She could be one of Stilton’s miner’s, injured on the job since the Duke took over operations. But the scar covering her eye wasn’t from falling rock or a mistimed swing of a pick axe. It was definitely from a sword.

“No one’s seen your friend in months. He’s probably dead,” Corvo lied. 

“He’s alive, and I think you know it.”

“Do I?”

“One of Paolo’s boys started going in and out the manor a few times a week not long after Stilton disappeared. He goes in with food and supplies and leaves empty-handed. Stilton’s in there.” She raised her chin and moved to place her hands on her hips, but only the left hand met its target. She flinched— barely noticeable— as she readjusted her right arm and let it fall to her side.

These were new injuries if she was still forgetting the hand wasn’t there. Something told Corvo that if she was better accustomed to being blind on her right side, he wouldn’t have been able to sneak up on her as easily as he did.

“Saw you earlier, too” she continued. “You were watching when that Howler left. I saw you follow him. That was only a few hours ago. So either you gave up easy, or…”

Corvo didn’t say anything, but apparently his body language spoke for him.

Meagan smiled, impressed. “Wow. You’re efficient.” She hummed low, in thought. “Ok. So, you found a way in. That’s good. But what are you planning to do once you find Stilton?”

“Straight to business? You’re not even going to ask who I am?” Corvo wondered aloud.

“Oh, I know who are.” Meagan quirked half a smile. “You’re the man with a gun on me. Only you haven’t pulled the trigger yet, so I think we’re on the same side. I think we both want to find out what happened to Aramis Stilton that night, and pull this district— this whole city— back from the brink. ”

The two of them stood, eyes boring into one another, each waiting for the other to make a move. Corvo still had his gun aimed at her but his finger fell away from the trigger. He holstered the weapon, and summoned the Heart.

“Just stay put for a moment. Let me… think,” he said. The spectral organ beat in the palm of his hand and Corvo aimed it at Meagan Foster.

_"This one has a greater destiny, beyond Dunwall, beyond Karnaca."_

Corvo furrowed his brow. That was vague, even for her. He tried again.

_“She can be trusted, to a point. But I cannot see past the anger. That much rage can hide things.”_

That was a little more informative. At least Meagan was trustworthy… to a point. As little comfort as that caveat brought him, Corvo supposed the same could be said of anyone. Everybody had limits to their loyalty.

Meagan waited patiently, eye on his hand and questions in her gaze. But she stayed quiet.

Finally, Corvo sighed. “Alright. I believe you. And yes, I’m going to find Stilton. Assuming he’s still alive— and according to Durante he is— I’ll get him out of there.”

“Bring him to me,” Megan said. When Corvo tilted his head as if to say ‘why should I?’ Meagan exhaled sharply, and hung her head. “I—that sounds bad. I mean, I can keep him safe.”

Corvo crossed his arms. “So can I.”

Meagan narrowed her eye, annoyed. “He’s been prisoner in his own home for six months. He been through who-knows-what. He needs a familiar face. He knows me. Just ask him. And when you get him out of there…” She hesitated. “I have a ship anchored in the harbor. The Dreadful Wale. I’ve paid off the port authorities so we’ll be left alone. It’s private and mobile. It makes tactical sense to take him there.”

Corvo had to admit, it wasn’t a bad plan and he couldn’t hide Aramis Stilton in his rented room. “How about when I find Stilton, I’ll mention you and ask _him_ where he’d like to hide out.”

“Fair enough.” Megan relaxed a bit.

Corvo backed away slowly and waited until he was near the door before he asked, “You still haven’t asked who I am.”

Meagan smiled. “Like I said, I know who you are.” She leaned against the wall. “I was in Dunwall during the plague. I remember when the wanted posters for Masked Felon started cropping up not long after Corvo Attano escaped prison.” She locked eyes with him. “I’m glad the papers were wrong about your ‘shipwreck’, Lord Protector. And your secret’s safe with me.”


	7. Chapter 7

Corvo thanked the stars he didn’t have to solve Jindosh’s puzzle on his own.

He wasn’t a dull person, but riddles weren’t his strength. Trying to keep all the clues straight in his head would have tripped him up for hours. Corvo huffed and spun the dials, matching names and trinkets. He breathed a sigh when the mechanisms on the lock spun and the massive doors unlatched.

He cast a glance over his shoulder to see if he was being watched. He was. Meagan was still in the apartment across the street, but she wasn’t hiding behind the tattered curtains anymore. She stood in the window and raised one hand in mock-salute as he stepped into the manor.

A long corridor stretched out before him, dusty and dark from neglect. It was probably used for screening visitors before they were granted access to the house. The manor itself was further in. But as soon as Corvo took a few steps inside, he felt something… off. The sensation was difficult to describe but it was as if he was being drained. Physically, he felt fine. His heart rate and breathing were strong and steady. But something else, some less tangible part of him, was weaker. Corvo’s stomach soured.

He looked down to his wrapped hand and flexed his grip in the air. Nothing. The tingling magic didn’t respond. There was no muddy melody of the Overseer’s music boxes but something was interfering with his connection to the Void. Powerful magic was at work nearby.

Corvo’s blood went cold at the implication. There was something far more sinister than the Duke’s political machinations at play here.

He kept to the shadows of the narrow corridor and watched the courtyard for signs of trouble before he ventured into the open. Corvo crouched in the vestibule for half an hour before he was satisfied the area wasn’t an ambush. Durante assured him that there was nothing harmful on the property aside from the few blood-fly nests towards the back of the house, but Corvo felt like he was being watched as he made his way to the manor’s front doors.

The interior of the house was about what he expected. There was half a year’s worth of dust accumulated on every surface. Somewhere upstairs a pipe had sprung a leak and water stains dotted the ceiling. That would turn to mold by the end of the summer.

Signs of a struggle were everywhere: knocked over furniture, bloody handprints on the walls, missing carpets. Corvo examined a hole that had been punched through one of the interior walls. It was lined with dried blood and strange splinters. He pulled one loose from the plaster, pinching it carefully between a thumb and forefinger, and held it up to the light streaming through the windows. The splinter was actually a long woody thorn. Corvo scrunched his face in confusion. What had done this?

If what Durante said was true— that the servants and guards were killed to cover up whatever happened to Stilton— the Duke must have had his own men with him. The house would have had dozens of people on staff that evening, too many for one man to kill by himself. 

A noise shocked Corvo from his thoughts and he spun around. The notes were loud and discordant, but someone was attempting to play the piano. Stilton.

Corvo rushed towards the sound. The music room at the far end of the hall was locked behind a metal gate but he had the key he’d taken from Durante. The gate groaned on its hinges and Corvo stepped inside. The room had once been very grand. Corvo could almost see it. But now, with the stench of its prisoner and the buildup of garbage in the corners, the expensive carpets and finely tuned instruments were less inspiring. The hole in the ceiling where Stilton had broken through from his bedroom added the feeling of ruin.

“Warm the quilts, Theo. I think it’s going to be cold tonight,” Stilton called out to no one. No one alive, anyway.

Corvo approached cautiously and took his first good look at Aramis Stilton. Stilton’s build was short and wide, with forearms thick from mine work. His face was the very stereotype of a Morlian— wide nose, prominent brow and strong jaw.

Stilton sat at the piano on a plushly upholstered bench. His massive hands dwarfed the delicate keys as he plucked away at a tune that made Corvo’s gut twist. Whatever the song was it’s as if the notes were slightly out of order. He couldn’t place it, but it was familiar.

Stilton barely seemed to realize Corvo was there as he grumbled under his breath and made another attempt at arranging the notes correctly. Corvo summoned the Heart.

_"He would pluck out his own eyes if it would help him forget what he saw."_

Stilton’s fingers froze on the keys and his gaze locked onto Corvo’s hand.

“I almost found him!” Stilton snapped. “I could almost see. If I had just looked a little longer…” he trailed off.

Corvo’s eyes flicked from Stilton to the Heart and back. Stilton could hear it? See it? “What happened to you, Stilton?” he asked.

The world around him tinged grey and slowed to a crawl. Stilton’s off-key music halted mid-note and time came to a stop. Corvo looked to his left hand, but he wasn’t the one manipulating time.

“Hello again, Corvo. My old friend.” A figure materialized on top of the piano, lounging on its frame as casually as if he lived there.

Corvo drew a sharp breath and his heart constricted unexpectedly. Without realizing it, he took a few steps towards the Outsider. But Corvo stopped himself before he was close enough to touch.

The Outsider swung a foot over the dirty carpet. He was dressed in all black and the light shimmered off of his jacket. He turned his face towards the light and met Corvo’s gaze with eyes as black as ink.

The Outsider looked different than the last time Corvo saw him. He appeared a bit younger perhaps? Slighter in frame. But the biggest difference was in his face. Corvo was good at picking up on subtle tells and, for the first time, the Outsider had some. His expression was schooled into neutrality but his eyebrows were too high and the corners of his eyes crinkled. The Outsider was nervous.

Finally, Corvo broke the silence. “You’re… different.”

The Outsider gestured towards Corvo’s hair. “So are you.”

Corvo ran a hand over his head. The hair had grown out a bit since he cut it over a month ago and the tips of the longer strands curled in the warm coastal air. “I changed my appearance.”

“So did I.”

“Not much of a disguise,” Corvo teased. “The eyes give you away.”

The Outsider’s face softened. “They usually do.”

Corvo struggled to keep his hands at his sides. “How are you here? This isn’t the Void.”

“No. But this place isn’t normal ether.” The Outsider slipped down from the piano and Corvo stood back to give him room. “Not after what they did.”

The Outsider took a step towards Corvo, but then stopped short. He changed direction and slid gracefully into the spot next to Stilton on the piano bench.

“What happened to Stilton?” Corvo asked. “What’s wrong with this place?”

The Outsider trailed a pale hand back and forth along the polished side of the piano. “On the 16th of Rain, Aramis Stilton and a group of influential people tapped into the Void itself.” The Outsider ghosted his fingers over the keys a few times, as if he were trying to figure out the notes in his head. “A part of him is still there, unraveling over and over again in an endless loop.”

Corvo swallowed a lump in his throat as the Outsider turned in his seat. He locked eyes with Corvo for a moment, then peeled his gaze away to examine the frozen visage of Aramis Stilton hunched over the keyboard. The Outsider lifted a hand to brush a tuft of hair away from Stilton’s eyes. The unexpected tenderness of the gesture made Corvo’s breath hitch.

The Outsider returned his attention to the piano keys and, very slowly, began picking out notes. It was experimental— a string of three notes, then four, followed by a different pattern of eight. His eyelids lowered and for a moment, the Void god almost looked wistful.

“As they focused their thoughts and reached for the Void, Stilton’s mind broke away from the group.” The Outsider looked into Stilton’s vacant eyes. “They had their desires, and he had his. Stilton made the mistake so many others have in the past.”

The words left Corvo’s mouth before he could even register saying them. “He opened his mind to the Void. He tried to know it, didn’t he?” Corvo swayed on his feet as a wave of dizziness washed over him. How did he guess that?

The Outsider cast him a curious glance. “Not exactly. He did stare into the Void, but he wasn’t trying to unlock the secrets of the cosmos. He was trying to find someone.”

Corvo’s face fell. “Duke Theodanis.”

The Outsider nodded. He looked at Stilton and whispered, almost sadly, “It doesn’t work that way.”

Corvo swallowed thickly. “What were they doing that they needed to tap into the Void?”

“They were looking for someone too,” the Outsider said. His face went hard. “Unlike Theodanis, she wasn’t lost. She was waiting for them.”

“What are you saying?” Corvo felt his skin prickle with wariness.

He hung his head. “It’s best to show you.”The Outsider extended a hand and the air around it began to shimmer. An object appeared, floating just above the Outsider’s palm. It was roughly the size of the Heart, but rather than flesh and gears, it was smooth metal and pulsing magic.

“Take this. It’s a kind of timepiece.” He extended his hand in offering. “Go to that night. Watch the ritual that drove Stilton mad.” The Outsider locked eyes with Corvo and with a barely contained snarl he added, “See for yourself what they did.”

Corvo wrapped his fingers around the strange artifact. It was cool to the touch but something vibrated at its center. Its mechanisms were a confusing cluster of glass shards and spinning metal. Beyond that was a fragment of carved whalebone wrapped in iron.

“Water and iron and bone,” Corvo mumbled to himself. Those things were significant somehow but he couldn’t focus on why. His thoughts muddled for a terrifying moment.

_~~~~~~~~_

_“Hold me just under the surface,” someone whispered. “Once it’s over… the tide will take of the body.”_

_~~~~~~~~_

Corvo felt faint and his vision blurred. When the strange sensations passed Corvo lifted his head to see the Outsider staring at him with widening eyes.

“Unexpected,” the god said, his voice breathy. “Even _my_ magic is weakened here.” He cast his eyes to his hands, as if he were considering something. “I wonder…”

The Outsider rose from the bench and approached him slowly. It was a surreal experience, being this close to him. Before, in the Void and at the shrines, he’d always floated just out of Corvo’s reach. But now the Outsider was close enough for him to touch.

Corvo stayed perfectly still as the Outsider stopped just in front of him. He lifted a hand tentatively, like he was giving Corvo time to pull away if he didn’t want to be touched. But pulling away was the last thing Corvo wanted to do.

The Outsider wrapped a hand around the back of Corvo’s head. His skin tingled with the sensation of those long fingers in his hair. But the Outsider didn’t make a move to do anything. He simply stared at Corvo with tense features; expectant.

The air around him pulsed with sounds from the Void. Corvo had no idea what the Outsider was doing, but he wasn’t afraid. The strange god might frustrate him but he had never harmed him. Corvo felt a tickle in the back of his mind— like a sneeze that builds and builds but never comes. 

As suddenly as it began, the strange feeling fizzled away. The Outsider’s expectant gaze shuttered behind a mask of idle curiosity.

Corvo sagged. “What were you doing?” he asked, his voice more a whisper than he’d intended.

“I was trying to give you something.” The Outsider shrugged and quirked a false smile. “It didn’t work.”

“Were you trying to give me another gift?” Corvo held the strange timepiece in his hand, and thumbed over the otherworldly construction.

“Yes,” the Outsider replied cooly. “But it’s no matter. You’ll be fine as you are.” He folded his hands behind his back. “Good luck, Corvo.”

“Wait!” Corvo cried out, before the Outsider could disappear. “Why haven’t I seen you in so long?” Corvo took a step forward and tried not to smile at the height difference between them now that the Outsider stood on the ground like a person. The Outsider was nearly half a foot shorter than him. “During the plague I could hardly go a week without a visit from you in my sleep. Then… nothing. Did I stop being interesting after Emily’s coronation?”

The Outsider’s face fell, and then carefully— deliberately— went blank. His reached out and ran a finger along the line of Corvo’s jaw. “You will always fascinate me, Corvo.”

And with that, he was gone. Color seeped back into the world and time resumed.

Corvo lifted a hand to feel along his face where the ghost of the Outsider’s touch still remained.

“There are whales in the mines!” Stilton exclaimed. Corvo jumped. “I can hear them down there, bloated and screaming beasts. Someone let them out!”

Stilton’s thick fingers fingers hovered over the keys of the piano for a moment, and plucked out a simple tune. It sounded like the song he’d been trying to play earlier, only this time the notes were in the correct order. Stilton played the series of notes over and over and Corvo listened with wrapt attention. It _was_ familiar. He knew that melody. He’d heard it somewhere…

Corvo’s head throbbed and he lurched forward. Pain bloomed from the back of his skull to behind his eyes and crested until Corvo was nearly on his knees. 

~~~~~~~

_He pressed someone against the side of a grand piano and ran his hands along the other man’s sides. Corvo slid his fingertips beneath the thin shirt. He felt the other man shiver in his arms and he let loose a breathy moan when Corvo stroked the naked skin along his hip._

_“Emily will be here in a few minutes,” he whispered into Corvo’s neck. He pressed a gentle kiss to Corvo’s chin. “Wait until tonight.”_

~~~~~~~

The pain faded away as quickly as it began. Green eyes. A smile. But the face was obscured. Was that from one of his dreams or a hallucination?

Corvo took a shaky breath. He needed to find whatever the Outsider wanted to show him about this place before he ended up like Stilton.

* * *

Despite the complexity he knew lay within its inner workings, operating the timepiece was simple.

He held the timepiece— shaped like an upside down pear— in the palm of his hand. It had a series of lenses folded along the side and when he flipped his wrist, they stood up and fanned out.

Corvo gasped when he peered through the transparent structures. Instead of a darkened and dusty music room with a hole in the ceiling and a confused Stilton plunking away at piano keys, he saw a decadently adorned version of the area. Plush red carpets covered the marble floors and gilded ornaments lined the walls. It was almost too opulent.

He lowered the timepiece, looked around at the present state of things, then lifted it again.

When the Outsider called this thing a “timepiece” it seemed he’d meant it literally. Corvo was looking at this same room in a time when the manor was still well-maintained.

Stilton grabbed the sleeve of Corvo’s shirt and tugged him close. “Time is leaking from the walls,” he whispered conspiratorially. Then, sadder, he added, “It’s ruining the carpets.”

Corvo gently pried himself from Stilton’s grasp. “I’ll see what I can do to fix that.”

Stilton returned his attention to the piano.

Corvo took a deep breath and flipped his wrist to open the fan of lenses. He wasn’t sure what to do, so he used it the same way he used the Heart. He held it in his palm, focused and squeezed.

The world pulled and shifted as Corvo felt himself lurching forward. But when the motion stopped, he was standing in the same spot beside Stilton’s piano, only Corvo was alone. Now, the room was well-lit and spotless. He could still smell the lemon-scented wax that been used to polish the furniture!

Was this a vision of the past brought on by the strange thing in his hand? Or was he really standing in another time? Corvo’s breathing spiked at the thought. It didn’t seem possible and yet…

Corvo crept to the storage alcove in the corner. In a small crevice underneath the stairs, he carved his initials. If this was real, and not some illusion…

He flexed his hand and the timepiece pulsed. Corvo braced himself through the brief disorientation. Then, in the present day, he looked under the stairs. There, exactly as he’d left it, were the initials CA. He ran a thumb over the wood and released a shaky breath. It was real! He had been standing in the past.

Mouth agape, he looked to the strange thing in his hand. Why would the Outsider give him that kind of power?

But Corvo had to focus. There was a ritual he was supposed to watch in order to understand whatever it was the Outsider was too coy to simply tell him. Determined, Corvo flexed the timepiece again and shifted into the past.

He stood in front of the shiny wooden doors of the music room and considered his options. According to the calendar on the nearby table, it was the 16th of Rain— the night of the ritual. He pressed his ear to the door. No sounds of screaming servants. So the Duke hadn’t started killing yet. That was a good sign. On the other side of the door, someone cleared their throat and Corvo’s hand dropped to the sword on his hip. But the doors to the room stayed closed.

“He’s not in there, Lieutenant,” a male voice grumbled.

A woman replied, “I need the code to the study, sir. The guests are demanding refreshments but we can’t get in to serve them.”

“Well, they can keep waiting. Mr. Stilton is the only one with the code and he’s out back taking some air before he has to hobnob with those people. If you absolutely need to speak to Stilton, you can get the yard key from the captain in the dining room.” Quieter, he added,“You know how anxious Mr. Stilton gets when he has to put on airs for company. Just let him have a few more minutes to collect himself, alright?”

Corvo moved closer to the door, and pressed an eye to the keyhole.

“I— of course, sir.” There was a short pause. “I don’t blame him to be honest. Dealing with the Duke is bad enough, and the other guests aren’t any better. That Ashworth woman snaps at everything you do, no matter how fast. And the Royal Inventor—” She shuddered. “He looks at you like you’re a bug he wants to pin to a display.”

The man leaned forward and asked, “Who’s the other one? With their face all bandaged?”

The lieutenant’s eyes lit up. “At first I thought she was an injured miner that Stilton brought to shove in the Duke’s face. Maybe show him where his silver comes from? But no. She came _with_ the Duke’s entourage. I don’t know who she is but she gives me the creeps.”

“The Duke keeps strange company these days.”

The guards parted ways and continued their patrols.

Corvo waited until they were at the end of the hall, and tried the door. It was locked. He could break through but that would attract attention. Grinning, he looked through the lenses of the timepiece. The door to the music room had been removed in the present. So, Corvo shifted through to the abandoned manor house and moved down the main hall. He held the lenses in front of him to keep one eye on the past as he wandered the empty house.

The dining room was blocked off by debris in the present, but in the past the doorway was clear. Corvo waited until the guard patrolling the hall in the past had his back turned, and squeezed the timepiece. He stepped through the door and just as one of the guards looked up, he phased back.

The dining room in the present was just as bad as the rest of the house. Eerily, the shriveled remains of the soldiers’ evening meals were still on the table. Whatever had happened that night, happened not long after these men began eating. Corvo couldn’t waste time then.

Through the timepiece, Corvo watched as the guard who’d caught a glimpse of him rushed to the door, confused and wary. Corvo looked around the room through the lenses and found what he was looking for. The yard key was sitting on a small footstool next to a reclining captain.

Corvo needed to find a way to grab that key without alerting the guards. If things went the way they had originally, all of these men would be dead by the end of the night anyway. However, Corvo didn’t want to be the one to spill their blood. He grinned as the idea came to him, and crawled underneath the table. He shifted back into the past and waited. It wasn’t long before the guard sitting next to the key stretched his arms over his head and yawned wide. Corvo quickly snatched the key and phased back to the present.

Making his way from the dining room to the gardens was an arduous process. Corvo cringed at the wasted time as he waited for another guard to turn his back before he moved into the past and unlocked yet another door that was barricaded in the present. On a few occasions a guard spotted him just as he disappeared from their time and he watched through the lenses of the timepiece as they frantically searched the area for the mysterious intruder.

Each time Corvo passed from one version of the manor to another he was frozen in awe for a moment— except for the time he wasn’t watching the lenses carefully enough and phased into a blood-fly nest.

Finally, he found his way to the gardens at the back of the manor. There were more guards out here too, but only a few. Corvo crept along a concealed ledge behind one of the mounted windbreaks and surveyed the area.

Aramis Stilton was in a gazebo at the center of the garden with guards patrolling the walkways around him. Corvo cursed under his breath. There was no easy approach, especially not without his powers. He crouched in the shadows and listened.

Stilton was restless, pacing and mumbling to himself. Only this time, he wasn’t raving nonsense. 

“What in the blazes are they planning tonight? All those symbols on the floor and that… thing they brought with them.” Stilton ran his hands down his face. “I’ve been trying to get into Luca’s confidence for months and now is my chance. But I have a terrible feeling about this.” He sighed and clenched his eyes tightly. “Oh, Theo. Would you know what to do? Or would you be just as helpless as I am to figure out what your son’s gotten involved in?”

Stilton sat heavily on the chaise and put his head in his hands. Corvo could barely make out the words, “I miss you so much. I wish you were still here.”

Corvo bowed his head. He knew exactly how Stilton was feeling. How many times had he gone to the gazebo where Jessamine was murdered to lament the turns his life had taken?

A young officer approached Stilton on hesitant feet. “Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you, but the guests are asking for you.” 

Stilton sighed. “Alright. I’ll… I’ll be coming along then.”

Stilton slowly shuffled towards the house and Corvo cursed under his breath. He’d been careful to remain invisible so far but now, seeing Aramis Stilton lucid and in mourning, knowing what was about to happen the man…

He lowered himself to the ground as silently as he could. There was a guard just in front of the shrubbery he was using for cover and he hit her with a sleep dart. He caught her before she hit the ground and laid her against the far wall. A nearby bottle of rum served as a handy prop and he placed the bottle in her lap as he pulled the dart free. The guard stationed near the back door went down the same way, and Corvo propped him in a nearby alcove.

He checked around the corner. Stilton was dragging his feet, but almost to the back door. The remaining two guards were still patrolling in the lower courtyard, just out of sight of Stilton’s path. He’d need to be careful. They wouldn’t see him from their patrol route, but if Stilton made any noise…

Corvo positioned himself just behind the edge of the wall. He listened for the scrape of worn boots on stone and leapt out just as Stilton rounded the corner.

He caught the back of Stilton’s jacket and tugged. Stilton inhaled sharply but didn’t have time to cry out. With a steady grip, Corvo shoved him up against the nearby wall and slapped a hand over his mouth.

Stilton’s eyes went wide and his body stiffened, but he didn’t try to scream.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Corvo said, as soothingly as he could from behind his mask. “I’m here to warn you not to join them for the ritual.” He gave it a moment, then lowered his hand.

Stilton swallowed beneath the tight collar of his dress shirt. “Who are you?” he whispered. He was keeping remarkably calm for a man who was cornered by an intruder. Only a faint tremble in Stilton’s hands gave away his nerves.

Corvo sighed. The macabre skull mask wasn’t going to help build Stilton’s trust. He slowly lifted it away from his face, but there was no flash of recognition in Stilton’s eyes. He’d never met the Royal Protector and even if he had, Corvo’s appearance was different now. 

“Meagan sent me,” Corvo lied. “It’s best you sit this one out.”

Confusion painted Stilton’s face. “Meagan sent you? But she’s the one who—” He furrowed his brows. “What’s changed? What did she find out?”

Interesting. It seems Meagan Foster knew more about the night of Stilton’s disappearance than she’d let on.

“I don’t know the details. What I do know is that if you take part in whatever they’re about to do, it’ll go badly for you.”

“I was afraid of that,” Stilton said softly. “Am I supposed to be some kind of sacrifice? Whatever they’re doing in there is dark magic, and you hear stories about those rituals.”

“Like I said, I don’t have all the information. But trust me, you don’t want to be a part of what they’re about to do. Learning the Duke’s secrets will be useless if you’re not around to tell anyone.”

“So what do we do? Should I call the guards or—”

Corvo shook his head. “These guards might be assigned to you, but they work for the Duke. They won’t follow your orders over his.”

“So how do we stop them?”

“ _We_ don’t. You stay safe until it’s over.” Corvo sighed. “This district needs you and if you get hurt tonight, a lot of people will suffer for it.”

Stilton’s face fell. “What are you going to do then? Are you going to…” Stilton’s jaw trembled. “Luca isn’t much like his father, but he is Theo’s son. If you’re going to do what I suspect…” 

Corvo thumbed at the corners of his mask. “I’m not sure what I’m about to walk into, so I don’t know what I’ll have to do. But I promise, _if_ I can spare the Duke’s life, I will.” 

Stilton nodded. “I suppose that’s all I can ask, isn’t it?” He fished out a scrap of paper and a pen from his breast pocket. “This is the code to the study. You’ll need it to get inside.” He handed it over, hands shaking. “I’ll tell the guards I’m ill and retire for the evening.” His eyes slid to the unconscious guard in the alcove with a bottle of whiskey Corvo had tucked into his jacket. Stilton shook his head. “He’ll lose his position for that, you know.”

“Better his position than his life.” Corvo couldn’t leave any evidence that he’d been here. He’d changed enough as it was. “One more thing.” He summoned the timepiece into his hand, not that Stilton could see it. “I’d like to meet with you again several months from now. Will you be here on the Eighth day of the Month of Timber?”

“Why that day?”

Corvo considered his answer carefully. “It’s the soonest I’ll be able to return to… this place.”

Stilton pursed his lips at the vaguely worded answer but nodded in agreement. “I’ll clear my schedule for the Eighth of Timber then.”

Corvo donned his mask.

Stilton straightened his shirt and motioned for Corvo to keep back. He pulled open the heavy doors to the interior of the house and Corvo listened through the keyhole.

“Mr. Stilton, sir,” a guard said. “Are you ready?”

Stilton groaned dramatically, holding his sides. “I’m afraid I’m feeling very unwell.” Stilton moaned again. “I don’t think I should attend. I would never forgive myself if this is contagious and I made my guests ill.”

“Should I call a doctor, sir?”

“No, no. It’s probably just a passing fever. If I’m still sick tomorrow, we can call for someone.”

Corvo looked through the keyhole and watched as the contingent of guards closest to the study door escorted Stilton towards his room, pausing only as Mr. Stilton stopped to place a small trinket on one of the windowsills. This left the study entrance unguarded just long enough for Corvo to sneak inside and enter the code.

He quickly spun the dials and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the door’s mechanisms unlock. He slipped inside in a low crouch and carefully shut the doors behind him. But when he turned around…

Corvo’s breath caught in his throat. The feeling of something off— the feeling of being drained by some unseen force that had itched beneath his skin ever since he entered Stilton’s manner— was amplified tenfold here. And the disturbance was visible! Furniture, paintings on the walls, the carpets, they were all flickering in and out of existence. It was as if something were starting and stopping time rapidly… between two different periods of time.

He looked through the lenses of the timepiece but they were black. He couldn’t travel to the present in here. Perhaps there was no present in this room.

Corvo reached forward and dared to run the tips of his fingers along the edges of a flickering cigar box on the refreshments tray. He gasped as his entire hand tingled and went cold. The strange sensation— the feeling of not being— crawled up his arm until he jerked away. It took a few seconds for the limb to return to normal.

What was happening in this place?

Corvo crept along the hallway, staying to the shadows, until he was just outside the social parlor. He delicately lifted one of the slats on the louver doors. His stomach sank with what he saw.

The Duke, Breanna Ashworth, and Kirin Jindosh all stood in a circle. There was also a fourth person Corvo didn’t recognize. She was wearing a hood and her face was bandaged. But, just like with the cigar box, the people gathered here to perform the ritual were grey and flickering in and out of time.

Now the Outsider’s cryptic words made sense. _“A part of him is still there, unraveling over and over again in an endless loop.”_

Before Corvo intervened in the past, Stilton had stood here with them in this place without time. But now, he was absent from the gathering. 

“Where is Stilton?” Abele grumbled.

Corvo froze and his vision narrowed, ready for a fight. But the Duke didn’t see him. Corvo wasn’t sure if this echo of the Duke was capable of seeing him, but it was best not to take that risk. He made sure to stay out of sight. He’d changed one thing in the past already.

“We don’t need him. Just his house,” said Ashworth. She spread her hands out as if she were feeling some invisible force. The muscles of her arms tensed with impressive definition, a look that was in stark contrast to her delicately upswept hairstyle. “The energies here are some of the most potent on the island. Perfect for our needs.”

Kirin Jindosh sipped a glass and rolled his eyes. “‘ _Energies’_ ,” he mumbled.

Ashworth struck him with a pointed gaze. “Don’t mock things you don’t understand, inventor.”

“I’m not mocking the supposed ‘energies’ of this place, Ms. Ashworth. I am mocking _you_.” He smoothed the edges of his thin mustache. “If you cannot properly define phenomena, couching them in vague mistrial terms like ‘energies’, then you fail to understand them.”

The hooded figure stepped forward. “You don’t have to understand it to feel it, Jindosh. And you can feel it can’t you?” She hummed to herself and ran fingers along her body in a way that was not appropriate for polite society. “I can feel it crawling over my skin and whispering in my head.” She stifled maniacal laughter in her hands. “We risk madness here tonight!”

“Enough, Alex!” the Duke bellowed. “We share a common goal.” He puffed up his chest. “Tonight, we begin the journey to finally place the rightful Empress of the Isles on her throne!”

The Duke and Ashworth shared a meaningful glance and smiled. Jindosh shrugged, and the fourth one— Alex— seemed to be distracted by things only she could see.

“What we are about to attempt is extremely dangerous,” Ashworth warned. “Your focus will be key. Allow my mind to guide you. The memories of Delilah that Luca and I have will allow us to find her. And once we do, you must not falter for an instant.”

Who was Delilah and why did the Duke call her the rightful empress?

The four figures began to file out of the parlor and Corvo followed at a safe distance. Stilton’s study was enormous. The hallway extended to a library, with an upper and lower level. The conspirators descended the stairs into an area that had been prepared for an elaborate ritual.

Strange writing in glowing blue whale oil covered the walls and the floors. They converged in the center of the room to form a circle and each person took a position at the area’s edge. But there was something else down there with them. A strange effigy sat perched at the far end of the room. It was a grotesque approximation of a woman. Carved out of bone and Void knows what else, the strange thing seemed to have the head of a statue fitted atop a pair of wings wrapped around its body.

Corvo perched behind the railing on the upper level and watched.

The four of them extended their hands to the sides and closed their eyes in unison. The strange markings glowed brighter and the room began to hum. It sounded like the noises runes and bone charms made, only magnified to a degree that shook the entire space.

Corvo’s heartbeat echoed in his head and his vision sharpened when the center of the circle began to grow dark. Something black and viscous bubbled up through the floor.

The Duke laughed in triumph. “It’s working! This is— it’s incredible!”

“Focus, Luca!” Ashworth snapped.

Alex began to chuckle maniacally and Jindosh’s face was as still as a statue, eyes wide and hands shaking.

“This is it!” Ashworth called out. “Everyone focus your will! Pull her through!” Her muscles tensed. “Pull!”

The darkness at the center of the room grew upwards, rising tall and taking form. A head, then arms and legs took shape.

A voice echoed though study that set Corvo’s teeth on edge. It was human but it sounded off. It was as if he were hearing an echo of someone’s voice carried over the mountains.

“I return!” it exclaimed. “Back from the cold, from the nothingness… from forever.”

The darkness writhed and coalesced into the form of a woman. She took a gasping breath when her mouth took shape and stumbled back. A bright light shone in front of her chest and shot out towards the strange effigy in the corner. Corvo could feel the surge of power like a tug on his chest. When the light faded, the woman’s thin legs began to quiver, but Ashworth and the Duke were at her side in an instant.

“It’s really you,” the Duke said, astonished.

Ashworth reached for the strange woman’s hand. “Delilah, I thought I’d lost you.”

“Breanna. Luca. I would never leave you.” She opened her arms to them. “Nothing will keep me away. Not the Void. Not the Outsider. Not even death itself.” Delilah waved to the effigy. “And now that my spirit is locked away, I am invulnerable.” She turned to to face them. “Keep it where no one can find it. It’s absolutely essential it remain safe.”

Breanna bowed respectfully and the Duke nodded, a smitten grin forming on his round face.

Jindosh, recovered from his shock, took a nervous step forward and poked the woman with the tip of one of his prosthetic fingers.

She whipped around and snarled. “You dare!” Delilah flexed her left hand and something broke through the floor of the study. A woody wine, as thick as a man, twisted around Jindosh’s torso and lifted him from the floor. It began to squeeze.

“Delilah, no!” the Duke exclaimed. He moved in front of her, his hands folded together in a begging gesture. “We need him.” He paused and approached her slowly, cautiously. “ _You_ need him.”

Her face relaxed and Delilah spread the fingers of her hand once again. From underneath her long black gloves, Corvo saw the telltale glow.

The blood drained from his face and Corvo held his breath. She bore the Mark of the Outsider.

The grotesque vine retreated back into the floor as Jindosh regained his footing on trembling legs. “I— ehrm— apologize, madame.” Jindosh fiddled with the scarf around his neck. “I wasn’t sure you were real. It seems you very much are.”

Alex grabbed the sides of her head and let loose a low growl. “Such power! Just to be near it. Can you feel?”

Delilah smiled. “Power like you’ve never seen. And that was just the beginning of what I can do.” She strutted slowly around the room, stretching her legs as if getting a feel for her body. “Once we’ve rebuilt my coven and I’ve taken the throne that is rightfully mine, I’ll begin my real work.” She turned to Ashworth and the Duke. “With enough time and resources, I’ll finally have enough power to take claim the ultimate prize.”

“Is it done then? Is the Outsider dead?” Ashworth asked, eyes gleaming.

Corvo stumbled forward and a wave of terror swept over him. He’d just seen the Outsider. But, that was before… in another time. And he’d changed things hadn’t he? What if…

Delilah frowned and crossed her arms. “No. Fighting him in the Void didn’t go as planned. I’ll need to be stronger. In a few years I can—” Delilah went rigid her eyes shot up to the railings.

“What is it?” The Duke reached for the gun at his side, but Delilah waved him off.

She stared into the spot where Corvo was hiding, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking through him. “We’re not alone.” She sauntered forward and craned her neck up. Delilah closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, just for an instant, they were black as ink. But just as quickly as it happened, they returned to normal.

“You’ve come to watch me return.” She smiled and raised a hand to her face, flattered. “I know who you are,” she taunted. “Better yet, I know _when_ you are.” She frowned and curled a thin lip. “But you’re sooner than I expected. It seems I underestimated the Outsider’s resourcefulness.” She turned to the Duke. “Luca! We’re escalating the timetable.”

Delilah swiveled back to face his hiding spot in the darkness and wiggled her fingers in a mocking wave. “I’ll see you soon, Royal Protector.”


	8. Chapter 8

Corvo stumbled out of the study, and into the great hall. His head throbbed and he placed a hand on the wall to steady himself. He didn’t understand everything he just saw, but he knew enough to be very afraid.

Those people had just pulled someone out of the Void itself! And the person they brought back— Delilah— spoke of a foiled plan to kill the Outsider. If she was Marked, why would she want to kill the god who gifted her with such power?

Corvo’s stomach sank. It wasn’t that outrageous when he considered it. Betrayal often came from those who were closest to you. It sounded like the Outsider had just learned that lesson the hard way.

“Hey!” a guard shouted from across the hall. “You there! Stay where you are!”

Heavy footfalls thundered towards him and Corvo fumbled for the timepiece. But when he stared into the present through the unfolded lenses, he gasped at what he saw. He flipped his wrist and braced himself as he was pulled through time.

Back in the present, Corvo stared in awe at his surroundings. The manor was… normal. There were no blood-fly nests or broken furniture! The floors were free of dust and the air was fresh. Aside from some minor redecorating— the new decor was much less ostentatious than the red and gold from before— it looked almost as lavish as it had over six months in the past.

Peering over the railing to the main floor, Corvo saw housekeepers scurrying about. The sound of hammering and heavy items being hauled by workmen was coming from one of the nearby wings. Stilton’s servants were alive and well.

Corvo removed his mask and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Stilton never attended the ritual and thus, there’d been no need to cover up his condition by murdering his staff. Things had changed. The event that caused Corvo to investigate the manor to begin with— Stilton’s disappearance— never happened.

He started down the stairs to see the rest of the house for himself, but before he’d made it a few steps the room tilted and his vision blurred. Corvo grabbed the banister to keep from falling to his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut but the spinning sensation only got worse! His thoughts jumbled and Corvo trembled as new memories washed over him.

~~~~~~~~

Corvo dragged a hand down his face and sighed. Another wasted evening in his office reviewing intelligence that led nowhere. It’d been three months since he received that strange note and started his investigation into this supposed conspiracy.

His spies in Karnaca had revealed a few things. The Royal Inventor was receiving a surge in supplies and funding. The Royal Conservatory seemed to be mismanaging some funds, and the local fishery was probably doing the same. For some reason, the disease research center was running on a skeleton crew. But none of that pointed to a conspiracy against Emily.

He thumbed through letters he’d gotten from Norman, Jana and Alma. They all agreed the Duke was tightening his grip on the island, but that wasn’t proof of wrongdoing. Corvo wouldn’t risk confronting Duke Abele and causing a diplomatic incident over rumors.

Corvo leaned back and stared at the ceiling of his office. He couldn’t waste any more resources on this. For all he knew, whoever wrote the anonymous note could have been trying to distract him from some sordid business in Dunwall by diverting his attention to Karnaca! 

Perhaps it was time to let the matter drop.

He cleared his desk and began filing documents away when something caught his eye. There, on the corner of the desk, was a sealed letter with a pickaxe logo. Where had that come from?

Corvo broke the wax seal.

 

> Lord Protector,
> 
> Forgive the breach in protocol, but I didn’t know if standard couriers could be trusted given the Duke’s involvement in this conspiracy against the Empress. So, I took my chances and am having this delivered through a trusted friend.
> 
> I know you said you couldn’t return to Karnaca until the Eighth of Timber, but if there is any chance you can fill me in on things sooner, it would ease my restless nights. Since I refused to participate in the ritual that evening, I’ve been shunned by Jindosh and Ashworth. Luca keeps our meetings strictly to business matters. They don’t trust me and so I have no idea what they’re plotting.
> 
> I hope you have things under control in Dunwall, because in Serkonos the situation is tense. I’m doing all I can to keep my miners safe and stem the flow of silver to Luca so that he doesn’t have unlimited coin to do whatever it is they’re planning. But I fear for my life if I deny him too much.
> 
> If there is some safe way to contact me, please do so. Otherwise, I’ll wait for you at my home on the aforementioned date.
> 
> Good luck,
> 
> Aramis Stilton

 

“What in the Void is he talking about?”

Stilton’s message made no sense! Why would he send something like this— telling Corvo about a conspiracy against Emily complete with naming names— but send no proof of those accusations? It sounded like Stilton was following-up on a prior conversation, but this was the first he’d ever communicated with the man. So who had Stilton been talking to previously?

Corvo furrowed his brow and turned the letter over in his hands. Stilton did mention not trusting the couriers, and it was easy enough to intercept written communications. What if Stilton had been speaking with someone he thought to be the Royal Protector?

Corvo wanted to write him back and ask for details but sending a letter was a risk if half of what Stilton had just implied was true. Briefly, Corvo wondered who Stilton had gotten to deliver this message for him. Whoever it was had been inside Corvo’s office somehow! He made a note to have the locks changed.

He compared Stilton’s letter to the mysterious note from a few months ago and frowned. They were written by different people. So there were two individuals trying to warn him now. This was a matter to be taken seriously after all.

With too many questions and no answers, he was at an impasse. The only thing Corvo knew for certain was that Stilton had information for him, and expected to meet Corvo at his home on the Eighth of Timber.

~~~~~~~~

He summoned Emily into his office and together they reviewed the evidence, thin as it was.

“This only proves that some coin is being moved around behind my back. There’s nothing to link it to the Duke except for Stilton’s word. And Stilton’s letter is… very odd.”

Corvo nodded. “I’m worried that he’s been communicating with someone who’s impersonating me. He could been danger, which is why I’m going to travel there in secret to make this meeting on Eighth of Timber.”

Emily scrunched her face. “If you’re gone for more than a few days, the conspiracy will know something’s wrong. And it will take weeks to get to Karnaca.”

“That’s where you come in.” He hesitated and added, “And Alexi too.”

“What do you need us to do?”

Corvo exhaled slowly and tried to look reassuring. “I need you to bury me next to your mother.”

~~~~~~~~

Corvo sat sweating in his rented room until a soft knock at the door shook him from his thoughts. He opened the door for Alma, who definitely looked the part of a Temporary Employment Representative.

“Any luck?” he asked.

“No luck at the Grand Palace,” Alma said. “They weren’t interested in either Jana or Norman. Luckily, Norman was well-suited to the Conservatory and the Royal Inventor’s mansion is always hiring housekeepers who don’t spook easily.”

Corvo sighed. It was better than nothing. And not a day too soon. It was already the Eighth of Timber and he had a meeting to get to.

He stopped off at a black market shop to replenish his supplies before heading out— he had no idea what to expect at Stilton’s after all— and pretended not to recognize that rat, Horatio Weatherby, behind the counter. 

The trip into the Batista Mining District was uneventful and the rail ride over gave Corvo an opportunity to survey the changed landscape. The mines had seen better days and the dust was beginning to accumulate on the district more than it had in years. It wasn’t hazardous yet, but if the Duke was demanding as much silver as Stilton implied in his letter, it would get worse before it got better.

Dressed as a day laborer, no one paid Corvo much mind as he approached the house. But as soon as he stepped inside, Corvo felt… off. He looked to his left hand and tried to draw magic from the Void.

Nothing happened! Corvo swallowed thickly and considered the implications. Stilton’s letter mentioned a ritual.

The vestibule was unguarded and he kept to the shadows as he surveyed the open courtyard outside the main house. A gardener pruned some withering shrubs to his left and a maintenance man was tinkering with a dried up fountain. The state of the manor was a bit underwhelming. Stilton was one of the richest men on the island, but it seemed he put more money into his business than his personal estate. A rare thing nowadays.

A butler stood near the front entrance. Corvo wondered if Stilton had left word to expect him or if this meeting was supposed to be secret? The letter had been delivered in secret —directly into his secured office no less— so he assumed that discretion was required today as well. Unfortunately, Stilton didn’t leave any details about how to sneak inside and Corvo didn’t see any obvious way to get around to the back.

“Are you lost?” the butler sneered.

Corvo froze behind the bushes and held his breath. But the butler wasn’t looking in his direction.

“I— erm…” a woman mumbled from around the corner. “Are you… hiring, sir?”

Corvo used the distraction to sneak behind him and into the foyer.

He strolled past a pair of men who were doing repairs to some buttressing and climbed to the second level. If Stilton was home, he’d probably be in a library or office. Most manors housed those on the upper levels. But as Corvo climbed the staircase he began to feel dizzy. He grabbed the railing to keep his balance as the world tilted to the side.

~~~~~~~~

Corvo felt as if he were coming out of a fog.

Had he been going down the stairs from the study just now or… had he been going up the stairs towards it? It was the most disorienting experience of his life. He hadn’t been this mentally off balance even when he experienced the Void for the first time. 

Corvo slowly rose to his feet as his strength returned. He took a steadying breath and felt as if he were being watched. Something in this house was… wrong.

At the top of the stairs he saw a door. It was boarded up and the locking mechanism on the wall had been torn out. Corvo narrowed his eyes and his gut twisted. He knew that door. He’d seen it unbarred and with the lock intact! But how was that possible? He’d never been here. Had he?

“Gah!” Corvo cried as the pain shot through his head.

He remembered! The ritual! Delilah! He’d been here… just now?

“Who are you?”

Corvo whipped around and found himself face-to face with the butler from outside.

The butler crossed his arms and stamped a foot indignantly. “How do you people keep getting in here?”

“You people?” Corvo wondered aloud. Before he could give an answer, a voice called out.

“Ah! There you are!” Aramis Stilton ambled towards him, arms opened wide as if greeting an old friend. “I wasn’t sure what time you’d be arriving today, so I blocked out my entire schedule.” The corners of his mouth curled up in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Stilton turned to the butler. “It’s fine, Hugh. He has an appointment.”

Stilton ushered Corvo down the hall and into an office. It looked like recent construction. The wooden floors shined with new varnish and the smell of fresh paint had barely faded. A statue of Duke Theodanis loomed over the center of the room.

“This office wasn’t here before,” Corvo observed.

“No, it wasn’t.” Stilton said, faux-pleasantness lacing his voice as he closed the doors and angled an audiophone towards the hallway. “Construction started about six months ago and the contractors just finished.” The audiophone clicked on and soft music played to obscure their conversation.

Stilton turned to face Corvo and his lips thinned into a tense line. “I needed a new study since the bloody Void is leaking into my old one!” he hissed. He stormed over to a small table with glasses and liquor and poured himself a tumbler. “I had to tear the lock off and board it up! This whole house feels wrong ever since that night. And I can’t risk selling the manor because how would I explain what’s happening in there?” He downed the amber liquid in one gulp.

“You saw it! You were there! _She_ addressed you by title.” He raised his eyes to Corvo’s and pointed a finger at him accusingly. “I knew you looked familiar that night but I couldn’t place you. If she hadn’t taunted you I wouldn’t have guessed who you were.”

Corvo’s stomach dropped.

But Delilah did address Corvo by title. And Stilton did realize who he was. And because of that, he’d written Corvo a letter about the conspiracy just as Corvo had nearly given up on investigating! He even told Corvo what day to meet him… because another version of Corvo had requested that meeting.

His head spun with the paradox.

Corvo wiped a hand across his face. “So you went into the study after all.”

“The next morning after they’d all left I went to check for damages.” Stilton snorted to himself. “Damages. I’m shocked I’m still alive after seeing the echoes of what they…” He trailed off and his eyes slid nervously to Corvo.

Corvo raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “I’m not here to silence you. And I imagine the Duke assured his friends of your silence already. Or else… well, you’re not wrong. They don’t want anyone alive who might talk about that night.”

“And who would I tell about the witch who spawned from the Void inside my own home? Hmm? The Abbey?” Stilton poured another glass with shaking hands. “I allowed that ritual to take place. I invited them. It’d be my head on a pike along with theirs.”

It was true. The Abbey wasn’t terribly understanding when it came to these sorts of things.

“I’ve carried this burden for over six months! Since you were already aware of their scheming before the ritual even happened, I hoped you’d have stopped them by now. But Luca is getting worse. He’s spending coin faster than we can mine silver and having meetings with people from all over the isles, planning who-knows-what. I took a risk contacting you.” 

The second drink disappeared. “I spoke to Meagan the day after you warned me not to attend. She didn’t send you, and she’s very curious about how you knew to drop her name.” He cast a glance to the closed door. “I almost invited her here today to meet with us, but I didn’t want to risk spooking you.”

Corvo had no way to explain how he met Meagan, because in this timeline he hadn’t caught her staking out Stilton’s abandoned house.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “If you trust her, we can probably use her help. But I don’t want a lot of people involved in this, Stilton.”

Stilton narrowed his eyes. “Even you’re not involved officially.” He ran a hand through his rust-colored hair. “When I read about your death in the papers I was afraid I was on my own in this. Did you escape some sort of trap or—”

Corvo shook his head. “No. It was the only way I could investigate things here without my absence from Dunwall alerting the Duke.”

Stilton hummed to himself. “Smart, if extreme.”

“I agree. But these are extreme times. You saw what happened in there.” Corvo shuddered.

Stilton poured two more drinks. He handed one to Corvo and motioned to the sitting room attached to his office. They settled in plush chairs in front of a large painting of… another, different office.

Corvo raised a brow in question.

“The interior designer said it created the illusion of ’space.’” Stilton chuckled. “I think he just needed to get rid of an enormous painting of an office that no one else wanted to buy.”

“I’ve seen worse decor,” Corvo commented dryly. He swirled the amber liquid around in the glass before tipping it back in one long swallow. The burn warmed him and eased the tension in his shoulders. “Speaking of which, that effigy, the one Delilah used to… do whatever she did. Where is it now?”

“I don’t know. When I stuck my head out of my bedroom the next morning they were gone. They must have taken it with them.”

Corvo grumbled under his breath. That thing was clearly important to Delilah. She’d said it hosted her spirit. Surely she couldn’t mean that literally. She couldn’t survive without a spirit inside her body, could she? But he did see some sort of powerful magic enter the grotesque thing.

“Could the Duke or one of the others be hiding it somewhere?”

“As I said in my letter, I can’t get near Jindosh or Ashworth. Luca keeps our meetings public and strictly business. No small talk. And I honestly don’t know who that woman in the hood even was.”

That bothered Corvo as well. They called her Alex. It was a common name. With her face bandaged and the hood over her head, he had nothing to go on other than the fact that she was clearly out of her mind. He made a mental note to check local hospitals for missing patients.

“I don’t know either, but I’ll be looking into it. In the meantime, I have people who can search Jindosh’s mansion as well as the Conservatory. But the Grand Palace will be harder.”

Stilton nodded. “And I haven’t seen that Delilah woman anywhere, but I’m willing to bet she’s staying at the Palace. And if that _thing_ is so valuable to her, it will be close by.”

Corvo agreed. He took a few minutes to fill Stilton in on what he’d been able to accomplish since arriving in Karnaca. But someone with Stilton’s influence would be just as valuable as having servant spies close to two of the Duke’s allies.

“I’ll help you on one condition. Same as before.” Stilton’s eyes were hard. “I don’t want Luca killed.”

“And I’ll tell you same as before,” Corvo growled. “I can’t make that promise. After what we saw in there, with what we know we’re up against…” Corvo paused. “Ideally, I’d like to gather evidence and expose them all. Let this go to trial.” Corvo squared his jaw. “But if that isn’t possible, I’ll do what I have to.”

“Oh, Luca.” Stilton hung his head. I swore to Theodanis I’d look after him. But with what’s he’s done, I—” Stilton’s gaze trailed over to the larger than life gilded statue of the former Duke. “Luca was never the same after his brother was murdered, you know. His cruelty became so much more… focused, after he watched Radanis die.” He swallowed. “Trauma can change a person.”

Corvo nodded. Everyone knew about the murder of Radanis Abele. The Duke’s sons were visiting Dunwall— causing a scene and doing damage everywhere they went— when apparently they pushed a homeless person too far. He’d been on duty in Dunwall Tower at the time but reports say a beggar stabbed Radanis Abele through the eye with the hood ornament from his own carriage. The failure of the City Watch to bring the murderer to justice was one of their greatest embarrassments. 

“Do you ever—” Stilton cut himself off. His cheeks were red from the drink and his eyes glassy. “Never mind.”

Corvo sighed. “No, go ahead. What were you going to ask?”

“Well, it’s wildly inappropriate but…” Stilton cleared his throat. “Do you ever worry about Lady Emily? About what influence the violence she witnessed may have had?”

Corvo froze, shocked at the candid and yes, wildly inappropriate nature of the question.

“I— I apologize.” Stilton bowed his head slightly. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Every single day.” Corvo blurted out the reply without thinking.

They stared at each other, unblinking and quiet. Finally Corvo continued.

“She saw so much, so young.” He stared at the bottom of his glass. “And I used to worry about how she’d grow up, seeing what she did.”

“Not anymore?” Stilton asked.

Corvo shook his head. “No. I think the worst I can say is that she sometimes doesn’t grasp the full extent of her power.”

“Not necessarily a bad thing.”

“No, but if she doesn’t grasp the power she can’t grasp the responsibility of it either.” Corvo sighed.

“She’s young,” Stilton offered. “I don’t think that kind of power can truly be understood by a person until they’re older. Some lessons can only be taught by time itself.”


	9. Chapter 9

Corvo left Stilton with a handshake and a promise to keep in touch through dead drops. They couldn’t risk meeting in person too often. The Duke would be watching Stilton for signs of betrayal and his meeting with a mysterious stranger today would probably be reported somehow. But that was unavoidable now.

Since he’d already been seen by the butler, there was no point in sneaking back out. Corvo saw himself to the front entrance and smiled at the way the manor had changed. His head might be a confusing mashup up alternate realities, but at least something good had come from his interference in the events of the past. Stilton was sane again. And without unrestricted access to Stilton’s mines, the conspiracy— orchestrated by this woman, Delilah, he now knew— had fewer funds.

Of course, that could also make them more desperate. Only time would tell.

Corvo took one last look at the manor’s courtyard and entered the long tunnel of the vestibule. But before he reached the final door to the outside, the world went grey and slowed to a halt. He heaved a sigh and slowly turned around. Corvo was not surprised by the figure lounging on the nearby sofa.

The Outsider rested his arms casually along the back of the furniture and crossed his legs with one foot propped upon his knee.

“You surprised me, Corvo. You went out of your way to make sure Aramis Stilton’s sanity survived the evening. It would have been easier to let things play out the way they did originally.” He lifted a hand to his chin. “And now you’ve changed things.”

Corvo felt the blood drain from his face. “Did I make things worse?”

“For some. But for others, you made the world a much better place.” He was quiet for a moment before he added, “I’m sure Stilton would be thankful if he knew what you did for him.”

“It sounds like you’re the one thanking me,” Corvo observed. “You seem fond of Stilton.” Something ached in his chest at the thought.

The Outsider raised an eyebrow. “Aramis Stilton is interesting.”

“Is that why you wanted me to save him?”

“I never told you to save him,” the Outsider replied casually.

“No, but you…” Corvo struggled for the words, thinking about the way the Outsider had touched Stilton’s hair and gazed at him without his usual cold curiosity. “It was implied, wasn’t it? Your timepiece took me back to before he entered the room. You knew I’d at least try to spare him that fate.”

The Outsider’s mouth quirked up on one side. “And so you did.”

“And everything changed because of it.” Corvo ran a hand through his hair. “My head feels like a sack of cats. Even more than usual.”

Corvo gazed thoughtfully at the Outsider. It was so strange to see him sitting in Stilton’s foyer as naturally as if he were a guest waiting for an escort into the estate.

Oh a whim, Corvo took a seat. The springs within the sofa cushions groaned a bit and Corvo adjusted himself on the furniture. He turned his head to meet the Outsider’s gaze. The black eyes widened ever so slightly and Corvo smiled at the small display of surprise.

“Do I need permission to sit next to you, great god of the Void?” he dared. The teasing felt familiar and something tightened inside his chest.

The Outsider’s eyes crinkled at the corners and he turned his gaze forward. “I think we’re beyond simple formalities, Corvo. You may _sit_ wherever you like.” He folded his arms across the back of the sofa again and ran long fingers along the upholstery.

Corvo felt the indentations of the cushions behind his back. His heart sped up and he took small shallow breaths. He wondered what those fingers would feel like trailing along the exposed skin on the back of his neck. Before he realized what he was doing, Corvo angled himself into the Outsider’s space.

The delicate fingers behind Corvo’s back froze in their exploratory path along the sofa. The Outsider didn’t turn to face him. He kept his eyes focused on the wall but there was a visible tension to the Outsider’s shoulders.

Corvo had the inexplicable urge to shift him to the side and dig his thumbs into those tense muscles until they were relaxed and pliant. He wondered what it would be like to feel the god pliant beneath his hands in other ways.

A small groan escaped Corvo’s throat at the thought of it and he felt himself begin to stiffen. He launched to his feet and paced to the other side of the room. First the strange dreams of a mysterious young man, and now he was having lustful thoughts about the Outsider? He’d been without a lover for twelve years but it still felt like a betrayal to Jessamine’s memory.

Jessamine. Corvo gasped as a thought occurred to him. He summoned the timepiece and stared at its inner workings. He’d altered time with this thing. What if…

“I know what you’re thinking.” The Outsider’s mouth pulled downwards. “And the answer is no. The timepiece only works here, in Stilton’s Manor, because of the disruption in the Void.” The Outsider hung his head, and kept his eyes to the floor. “Some things can’t be undone, Corvo. No matter how badly we want it.”

He rose from the sofa and disappeared.

Corvo opened his mouth to shout out to him— but to shout what? ‘Come back? Wait, don’t go?’ None of these feelings made sense.

Suddenly, Corvo felt the world tilt off its axis and something tugged at him from below. He scrabbled for purchase on the ornate tile floor as he was pulled backwards. His stomach lurched and he fell.

A world of darkness rushed by him— all grey mists and cracked black stone. Corvo had just enough awareness to realize he was no longer in the real world before he was jolted out of his fall by a firm grasp on his wrist. Corvo gasped and stared at his feet, dangling over an endless expanse of nothing. He craned his head upwards and he met the black eyes of the Outsider.

The Outsider lifted Corvo up to the floating island as if he weighed nothing and set him down gently on his feet.

“Where are we?” Corvo stared into the murky darkness and wrinkled his brow at the floating island of jagged black rock.

“This is the Void,” the Outsider replied.

The Void Corvo saw stood in stark contrast to the one he’d visited before. He remembered the Void as blue expanses with floating islands weathered by gentle currents of air, water and time. He remembered a landscape littered with cryptic tableaus and frozen scenes of what was or what would be.

But the Void he saw now was filled with endless paths of blackened rock that stretched out into the darkness around a swirling light, obscured by mists.

It was colder too. Corvo rubbed his hands together for warmth. “But how— I wasn’t asleep. You can pull people into the Void when they’re awake?”

“The rules are different inside Stilton’s home,” the Outsider said, with a sly grin. “When I realized I could slip into your world…” He trailed off and folded his hands behind his back.

“What happened here?” Corvo asked, hands gesturing to the imposing darkness.

The Outsider lowered his head. “Delilah happened.” He motioned for Corvo to follow in the direction of the island’s incline, and then the Outsider disappeared.

Corvo sighed. His powers weren’t working so he assumed he was still inside Stilton’s manor— in body if not in spirit— and so he trekked along the slope of cracked stone on foot.

He glanced around at the devastation in the Void. How had one witch, no matter how powerful, disrupted the Void itself?

When he reached the edge of the island Corvo lowered himself over the drop and landed in a crouch on the slab of stone below. When he looked up, he was in a recreation of the ritual site from Stilton’s manor. The conspirators stood frozen in time around the recently reborn Delilah.

Corvo examined every detail of the scene. He hadn’t dared to get close to them before, but now he wanted to make certain that he hadn’t missed anything important. He stared into Delilah’s face, as if her unmoving visage could provide him with some answers.

“Who is this woman?” he called into the Void. “Why is she after Emily’s throne? And what ‘larger prize’ does she want?” There was no answer. He stared into the darkness and raised his voice. “What could be a larger prize than the throne of the Empire?”

“I wonder. Who could possibly have more power than an Empress?” the Outsider asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

The voice came from just behind his shoulder and an unexpected flare of warmth turned cold in his chest when Corvo realized what he was feeling. He whipped around to face the Outsider.

The Outsider took a step back before he continued his speech. “Delilah Copperspoon.” He gestured to the witch. “I admired her once. She came from nothing, took the worst abuse your empire had to offer, and then climbed the slippery rungs of Dunwall’s social ladder, hands slick with filth and blood.”

Corvo rankled. “You gave the power of your Mark to someone with that kind of ambition?” 

“Years ago, Delilah stood a crossroads in her life. She vowed to change the world for the better.” The Outsider added, almost with a shrug, “She used to dream of lifting the poor out of the gutters and overthrowing tyrants.”

“My daughter isn’t a tyrant,” Corvo snapped.

“No, she isn’t,” the Outsider admitted.

“Then why is she doing this?” Corvo turned to the frozen image of Delilah. “Why does she think Emily’s throne belongs to her?”

The Outsider stalked around the ritual circle, eyeing each participant. “Delilah seeks to right an old wrong. She believes she was promised something long ago; a promise denied to her by arbitrary customs and notions of propriety. She spent decades obsessing over taking what she feels she is owed.”

“She’s not a Kaldwin. She isn’t owed anything to do with the empire,” Corvo said.

The Outsider shook his head. “No. But now that she’s died and returned— now that she’s tasted how deep the power of the Void truly goes— her ambition runs even deeper than it did before.”

Corvo stared into the black eyes of the god as understanding dawned on him. “Emily’s not the only one facing a coup, is she?”

The Outsider’s silence was answer enough.

“That thing, the effigy, what is it?” He pointed to the grotesque statue at the edge of the ritual circle.

“Think of it as a vault for keeping something intangible.” The Outsider pursed his lips. “Delilah made a sacrifice not even I saw coming. She tore away a piece of herself and put it inside that thing made of bone.” He looked back to Corvo. “And now, she’s immortal.”

Corvo swallowed around the bile in his throat. Of course she was.

“With her spirit housed inside this effigy, the body Delilah pilots around your world is little more than a Void-spawned vessel capable of consciousness and magic.” He clasped his wrists behind his back. “You won’t be able to destroy her completely unless she’s made human again.”

“And how do I do that?”

The Outsider stood between the two— Delilah and her effigy— and looked back and forth between them. “Reunite them.”

Corvo rolled his eyes as if to say ‘Obviously.’ “Where is the effigy? She told her allies to keep it safe somewhere. But they all have access to vaults and storage facilities.” At least the Duke, Ashworth and Jindosh did. He wasn’t sure about that Alex character. “So which one of them took it and where are they hiding it?”

The Outsider didn’t reply.

“Damn you! Just tell me. This concerns you too, doesn’t it?” He stormed over to the Outsider and stood just inches in front of him. If felt odd to stare down into his eyes rather than craning his neck up. For a fleeting moment Corvo almost wanted to lower his face and…

He shook off that feeling as quickly as it came. “Is there some reason you can’t just give me a straight answer?”

The reply came as a whisper. “I don’t know where she keeps it.”

Corvo stood, stunned. “What?”

“I can see and know a great deal. More than any human could comprehend without losing their sanity. But parts of my vision are obscured.” His shoulders slumped. “If I had an answer I’d give it to you.”

Corvo was struck at how vulnerable, how human, the Outsider looked in that moment.

The Outsider took a step backwards and stood in front of the frozen image of Delilah. He cocked his head as if he were listening to something only he could hear. “The realities of imperial rule— the bureaucracy, stiff formality, and endless compromises—will be one of Delilah’s greatest disappointments. She’ll be miserable when faced with how unlike her fantasies it is.” His smile was strained and he added, “She’ll be just as disappointed with the realities of godhood when she kills me and takes my place.”

The thought hit Corvo like a kick to the gut.“How is that possible? You’re a god. You can’t—” Corvo’s throat tightened unexpectedly. “You can’t die. Can you?”

The Outsider hung his head and smiled, almost shyly.

Corvo’s stomach dropped. “Oh.”

The Outsider averted his gaze and disappeared.

Corvo left the ritual site and followed along another path towards a bright light. The message was clear enough: follow.

When Corvo stepped through to the other side he stood on an island of darkened stone, similar to the others he’d seen so far. But the tableau on this island felt… different. Less ephemeral than the others. Something told Corvo the scene in front of him was a permanent installation.

There were statues of robed and hooded people arranged in two lines before an altar. At the head of the altar another hooded figure held a knife frozen in a downwards plunge. Thankfully the sacrificial space beneath it was empty.

The entire area was unnaturally still except for a few of the thick thorny vines he saw at the ritual— the ones Delilah used to intimidate Jindosh. They writhed at the edges of the island, encroaching into the space slowly but then reeling back any time they got too far. It was as if something was keeping them at bay.

As Corvo approached the altar, he noticed the sounds around him change. The echoing hums of the Void were deeper and wider in this place. The entire island was terrifying but awe-inspiring in a way he felt too deeply to describe.

“What is this place?”

The Outsider materialized on the edge the stone altar. “A crumbling island at the edge of the Void. But this one holds a secret.”

“It feels…” Corvo fumbled for the words. “Ancient.” He took a deep breath of the tangy metallic air and trembled. “This is ‘just another island’ like a Giant Pearlwood tree is just a houseplant.”

The Outsider cocked his head and a small smile tugged at his lips. “An apt metaphor.” He slid off of the altar. “This island is much older than the others. And it’s more powerful. This is where—” The Outsider hesitated. “This is where Delilah escaped the Void.”

“How did she get inside the Void to begin with?”

The Outsider replied simply, “She died.”

Corvo stood, stunned. “She said that at the ritual but I didn’t— it’s really true?”

The Outsider took a moment, lips pursed, as he seemed to consider what to say next. “When I gave her my Mark, she shocked even me with how much she was able to learn in just a few shorts years. She accumulated so much power.” He hung his head. “I let it be, as I always do. Until one day, she went too far.” His shoulders tensed. “She planned something that would have had repercussions not even I could allow.”

The Outsider raised his eyes to Corvo’s. “So I had her killed.”

Corvo jerked as if he’d been slapped. “You had her kil— you let lunatics run around my world with your Mark every day, doing who-knows-what and you never lift a finger. What was Delilah doing that pissed you off so badly you actually killed her?”

“I didn’t do it myself. I arranged for someone else do the deed. But as for what she planned, does it matter?”

Corvo clenched his jaw at the coy reply. The Outsider obviously didn’t feel like sharing and he knew demanding answers from him was probably useless. “I suppose not.” Corvo sighed. “Alright, so you had her killed and what then? Her spirit went to the Void like the Abbey says?”

The Outsider nodded. “I thought that was the end of it. But I underestimated her.” He paced around the edges of the broken island, staring off into the darkness. “A piece of her tattered spirit lingered on the fringes of the Void. It took root there and it grew itself anew. I didn’t notice until it was too late.”

That was a disturbing thought. He’d assumed he Outsider was omniscient, or very close to it. But if someone could sneak up on him in his own realm…

Corvo looked around. “And you say this is where she escaped the Void?”

“I laid a trap here and allowed her to find this place. Its power was too much for her to resist.”

“Bait.” Corvo looked around at the macabre scene of hooded figures and the priest with the raised knife. “If this place is as powerful as it feels, I can see why you’d use it but…” He shook his head. “That seems like a dangerous wager.”

“It was.” The Outsider’s eyes tracked over to the altar and, just for a moment, Corvo thought he saw the god shudder. “She became trapped here, in a field of my own design that grew stronger the more she tried to escape it. That should have been the end of her— trapped here for all time, growing weaker as my barrier grew stronger. But there was a… crack in the slab. She drew from the power of this place, unleashing and amplifying it into this contained space.”

Corvo tried to imagine it. “Like a pipe with too much pressure that bursts an old seam you thought you’d repaired,” he mumbled.

“In a way, yes.” The Outsider shook his head. “And her allies pulled her through that seam.” He snarled and looked into the distant light. “Even with all the knowledge she gained here, Delilah still has much to learn. She has no idea the chain of events she’s set into motion.”

Corvo waited a beat for him to explain, but the Outsider didn’t elaborate. Corvo cut the immediate problem. “So, what you’re saying is… your plan for Delilah backfired. Twice. And now it’s my problem.”

The Outsider’s face twisted and he looked away.

Corvo rubbed his aching temples to fight the headache pounding behind his eyes. This was too much! He came to Karnaca to investigate a coup— a normal human power struggle. How could he ever be prepared for something like this?

“Your Marked people keep ruining my life,” Corvo growled. “My daughter’s throne is at risk because you gave power to someone who couldn’t be trusted with it.” He looked down his nose at the vulnerable god. “Well at least this time, I’m not the only one experiencing the _consequences_.”

The Outsider’s lips parted slightly, whether from shock or an attempt to voice protest, Corvo wasn’t sure. But he didn’t want to hear excuses. “She spawned herself a new body out of the Void!” Corvo cried. “How is that even possible?”

“She learned a great many things by watching me,” the Outsider said, eyes lowered.

Corvo furrowed his brow. “What does that mean?”

The Outsider didn’t answer.

Corvo shook his head. “How did she see me at the ritual?” He frowned. “She sensed me and then her eyes turned black. Like yours. She said she knew ‘when’ I was. Is there any point to continuing my investigation if she can spy on me trough time?”

“She only saw you in that place where the Void leaked through. And even then, she was only able to see you for a brief moment.”

“So my work in Karnaca isn’t secret anymore.” Corvo ran a hand over his face and felt the weight of the world pressing upon him. “So I faked my own death for nothing then.”

“Not for nothing,” the Outsider said. “She knows you’re working against her, but if you’re careful you can still turn this to your advantage.”

They were standing close now and Corvo took a deep breath to calm himself. That’s when it hit him: the cold metallic tang of copper and iron being carried on the winter winds.

The anonymous note had reeked of the Void!

“It was you!” He stepped inside the god’s personal space. “You wrote the note warning me about the conspiracy.”

“I did,” the Outsider said softly.

“But why— couldn’t you have just—” Corvo threw his hands up in exasperation. “You’re in danger too! You could have pulled me into the Void and given me a damned mission briefing. But you sent a cryptic letter?” Corvo fought to keep his clenched fists at his sides.

The Outsider stared into Corvo’s eyes, resigned.

Corvo looked around at the Void— chaotic and unbalanced— then back to the Outsider. Realization dawned on him, and he lowered his voice. “You’re… injured, aren’t you? You’re conserving your strength.”

The Outsider nodded. “And I suppose,” he droned, “my letter _could_ have explained all the wild details. But how would that letter have been received?”

Corvo deflated. “Fair point. I’m not sure I would have believed it.” He scratched his beard. “But a threat against Emily, even vague and anonymous, was guaranteed to get my undivided attention.”

“And Emily’s life is in more immediate danger than mine, so it was hardly a lie.”

Corvo swallowed thickly. “So this is the part where I get to deal with Delilah for you, I suppose.”

“If you would be so kind,” the Outsider whispered.

Corvo sighed. “Wonderful. I just need to find this effigy. And when I do, I’ll need to figure out how to put a soul back into a Void-spawned body. I don’t suppose you have any suggestions about how to do that?”

The Outsider refused to meet his eyes. Not a good sign. “You’ll know what to do when the time comes. That much, I can see.”

He disappeared and Corvo was alone on the island. A white light appeared at the edge and Corvo began to walk towards it. But at the last moment he stopped. A feeling in his gut pulled him back towards the altar. The macabre scene of frozen stone was haunting. Something happened here. Something terrible. And this place rang with the echoes of that event.

That feeling came on stronger now— like a buzzing in the back of his head before one of the headaches came. Corvo felt dizzy the longer he tried to grasp at it.

Slowly, he backed away from the scene. There was no point in losing his mind like Stilton had. There would be time to think about the mysteries of the Void after Emily was safe. He stared off into the great nothingness and waved a farewell to the Outsider, who he knew was watching.

He stepped into the light.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is something of a detour. It doesn't advance the plot very much and you could skip it without missing anything important. 
> 
> Originally, there was a Howlers subplot but, as things progressed, the fic had too much going on and the subplot got cut. So, now this chapter sort of exists as a detour that doesn't go anywhere. I almost removed this chapter completely, except that I kind of liked giving Corvo a chance to meet Paolo and be a tad bit Extra. 
> 
> I'll be posting chapter 11 in a few minutes as well!

Corvo stepped into the public square in front of Stilton’s manor and settled on a nearby bench. He turned his face to the sky and sighed.

The conversation in the Void had his stomach twisted in knots. If the Outsider hadn’t sent him that note he’d have been blindsided by whatever Delilah was planning. Corvo was thankful the Void god gave him a chance to stop this conspiracy before it got off the ground. But another part of him turned cold at the thought.

He summoned the Heart to his hand. Jessamine. The Outsider didn’t raise any alarms when Burrows hired an assassin to murder the love of his life. But Delilah represented a threat to the Outsider. This warning wasn’t a display of kindness. The Outsider was covering his own ass.

Corvo shut his eyes. He tried to summon the old outrage— the unfairness of having Jessamine taken so young— but it didn’t flare in his chest the way it used to. It was an old pain now; a constant dull ache. And as much as he wanted to be angry at the Outsider for sitting back and watching it happen, that rage didn’t bubble to the surface anymore either. Instead, Corvo felt a familiar pain blossom in the back of his skull.

_“I don’t blame you, by the way. But I used to. You could have saved her, but you didn’t. I hated you for that in the beginning.”_

The sensation dissolved as quickly as it came and Corvo rubbed his fists against his eyes. An old memory? But only a fragment and out of context. Corvo didn’t know who he’d been talking to or when. Was this something from the first timeline? He massaged his temples and hoped he wouldn’t lose his sanity after using the timepiece.

Corvo took a few deep breaths to calm himself. The late afternoon air was humid and sticky in his lungs, but he grinned when he realized how much easier is was to breath in the district compared to… before. He took a deep lungful and his throat barely tickled. The air was dustier here than anywhere else in Karnaca, but it was breathable.

The yard was clean of debris. The apartments across the streets no longer had planks of wood nailed to the entryways. There were people milling around, chatting about their days.

A weight in this chest lifted. It did Corvo’s spirits some good to see a positive change in the world despite all that might still happen. He took a chance and wandered his old neighborhood to see what else had changed.

The differences were slight, but noticeable, and Corvo felt his cheeks strain to contain a smile. There were people out in the streets, a little wary of Corvo’s unfamiliar face but not overtly fearful. The shops were all open for business, even though their worn out signage and the bars on the windows prominently declared that business wasn’t good. It wasn’t a total transformation but it was something.

Batista Mining District had seen better days but these days were not its worst.

Corvo was walking towards his old apartment— he wanted to see if it had changed for the better as well— when he heard a startled cry come from a nearby alley.

“No! Help! Please, not that!”

He leaped into action and ran towards the sound of the woman’s pleas. In a small yard between two buildings he found a woman on her knees, surrounded by three men. The woman turned towards him.

She looked familiar.

Corvo’s vision went white at the edges as he realized where he’d seen her before. It had only been a few hours for him, but over six months for her. The last time Corvo saw her, he was planting a bottle of rum in her unconscious lap to cover up the fact she’d been sedated.

He pulled his sword and snarled at the vultures surrounding her. He cost this woman her position with the Grand Guard, but he’d be damned if he let anything happen to her in this alley.

The woman met his eyes… and smiled.

“Got one!” she exclaimed.

All four of them turned with swords and pistols drawn. Corvo barely had time to kick himself for walking into the trap before he was dodging blades and bullets.

He pivoted and rolled out of the way and then flexed his Marked hand. The world tinged grey. When he turned his head to face his attackers frozen in the warped field of time, the woman’s sword was inches away from his neck. They meant to kill him, not merely rob him!

Corvo fished a stun mine from his coat pocket. He didn’t have time for this nonsense. Whoever was still conscious after the device was drained would have some explaining to do.

He set the mine down at his feet, clutched a charged magnetic plate in the palm of his hand, and waited for it to power up. When the light turned green, he smirked and resumed the flow of time around them.

Three bolts of electricity surged forward and the three men dropped like puppets with cut strings. The woman was still coming though and Corvo quickly parried her swing and threw her off balance. With her guard down, he lashed out and slashed her just below the shoulder. The sound of metal on concrete rang out in the alley as her sword went skittering away. He grabbed her around the neck before she could scramble after it.

Her bony fingers dug into his forearm but Corvo held tight. “Stop struggling,” he grumbled.

She did not.

“If you don’t calm down this instant—”

The woman levered herself up into the air, using only her core strength, and brought her feet back down onto Corvo’s calves.

“Gah!” He stifled his cry of pain but kept his hold on her. “Oh for the— I’m not going to hurt you if you stop struggling.”

That seemed to work. The woman tried to turn her face— red and puffy from the fight— to look at him.

“Why not?” she asked. Her voice was rough from being half-choked.

Corvo stilled and gently eased up on her throat, but still kept his grip firm. “Because I’m curious about why the four of you tried to kill me for no good reason.”

She snorted a laugh. “Just a good citizen scam. Nothing personal.”

“Good citizen scam?”

“Yeah, you know. You pretend to be the victim of some crime. When someone comes to the rescue, you kill them and take their coin.”

She was so matter-of-fact about it that Corvo almost released his hold on her out of shock.

“And the four of you do this a lot, do you?” He squeezed her neck just a bit to make a point.

“Our gang does it. Quick coin.”

“Your gang. Let me guess. The Howlers?” She nodded and Corvo shook his head. She’d probably joined up with them after she lost her job with the guard. “I don’t suppose Paolo still works out of that saloon?”

“Yeah. That’s the HQ.” She was tense now. Her eyes darted around the small yard, looking for reinforcements or possible avenues of escape.

“Well,” Corvo said as he tightened his grip and pressed the carotid artery, “I should probably have a talk with him about that.”

He caught the woman as she went limp and laid her down on the ground with her friends.

* * *

It was easy enough to sneak into the saloon—oddly named The Crone’s Hand— from the rooftops on either side of the building. There were rooms and offices built around a large courtyard in the center, where the bar itself was located. Corvo crept along the roof tiles and kept an eye on the guard rotations. The saloon appeared to be run like a genuine business. There were patrons lining the bar, playing cards at the tables and dancing to the performers in the central courtyard.

A lot may have changed in the Dust District since he saved Stilton but the Howlers were still a nuisance, if a slightly less powerful one. They weren’t out patrolling the streets or trying to lay claim to city blocks, but they were lurking in the shadows.

The woman with tattoos who’d given Durante orders in the other timeline— Mindy— stood in the corner giving instructions to some new recruits about who to pair up with on their next patrols. He summoned the Heart.

One after another it delivered horrifying information about the members of Paolo’s gang.

_"It's not money he wants. It's the feel of his hands around their throats, to hear that last plea for mercy."_

_"She's worried they'll discover she's been cheating them out of coin. She'll blame it on the deaf boy if it comes to that."_

_"He forced the boy to search the sewers for dropped coins until the child sickened and died."_

Corvo grew less and less comfortable on his perch above the courtyard. He scanned each person until he found Paolo.

He was unremarkable at first glance: a slender man in a suit, with short cropped hair and wide ears. Paolo sat in a chair and listened to the music while he tapped his foot to the beat. He smiled and waved at Mindy as she dismissed their new recruits and sent them onto the streets. Corvo took a close look at Paolo’s hands as he did. They were bare.

_"The Howlers are his family. He's done terrible things to protect them."_

Corvo raised an eyebrow. Family? The Howlers were a group of monsters, all rallied together around a man who— unless that had changed as well— was a practitioner of dark magic. Corvo needed to know what he was dealing with.

He began his search on the top floor of the living area, thankfully free of guards. It contained a meeting room where, from the looks of things, they planned heists and kept records of which business owed them money. It also held Paolo’s private office. That room was locked, but the door was old and the wood was brittle. Corvo cracked the latch fairly easily.

The familiar hum of the runes drew his attention immediately and Corvo wasn’t surprised by the shrine he found in the bathroom off of Paolo’s office space. What did surprise him was the portrait of the once popular noblewoman, Vera Moray. She came to be known as Granny Rags later in life, as her sanity and fortune left her.

It was no coincidence that Paolo’s powers resembled hers. Paolo didn’t have the Outsider’s Mark, so what was his connection to her?

Corvo stood, contemplating his next move in front of the shrine. As usual, he felt the tug. There was always some strange sensation in his gut that pulled him to these places. But it was constantly at war with something in his head, an itch in the back of his mind, telling him to keep away.

He was so distracted by his inner struggle that he almost didn’t hear the footsteps.

“What the—” a male voice said at the door to the office, noticing the broken latch.

Corvo heard the cock of a pistol. He had just enough time to duck inside the bathroom and out of sight before Paolo burst into his office.

“Alright, which one of those lousy bastard has been snooping around my office?” he said to himself.

Corvo stayed plastered against the wall as he silently loaded a sleep dart into his crossbow. He and Paolo needed to have a chat.

A creaking plank of wood just outside the entry to the bathroom gave Paolo away and Corvo whipped around and fired the dart straight into his neck. Paolo’s eyes went wide and he fumbled for his gun, but his hands were already slowed with the powerful sedative coursing through his veins.

Just as his eyes began to roll back into his head, Paolo huffed a laugh and slurred, “Big mistake.”

Corvo barely had time to wonder what Paolo meant, when he was suddenly experiencing the worst form of deja vu. Paolo crumpled to the floor, and burst into a swarm of rats.

Of course, Corvo wasn’t totally unprepared. Durante had warned him about this and he quickly got to higher ground atop a nearby table. The rats clustered just underneath him, jumping and screeching. Corvo sliced at each one that got too close. After less than a minute, the swarm retreated into the bathroom. Corvo followed.

The rats twisted together and a dark shimmering magic warped the air around them. When the vision cleared, Paolo stood healthy and whole in front of his shrine. Corvo almost didn’t have time to reload a second dart before Paolo reached for his gun. But this time when he shot Paolo, the dart did its job.

‘ _Just like with Vera_ ’ he thought to himself.

Corvo cocked his head to listen for anyone approaching. But they hadn’t made that much noise and since Paolo’s office was apparently off limits to the other members of the gang, that gave them some time and privacy. He leaned down to carry Paolo away from the shine— standing near it made Corvo increasingly anxious— when something leaped at him.

He reacted quickly and swiped it away, thinking it was a rat. But the thing that hit the wall with a thud was—

“A hand?” Corvo gasped to himself.

The hand bounced off the faded wallpaper and scurried across the floor. Corvo darted backward a few steps but it followed and leaped through the air, grabbing onto his pant leg with bony fingers. The thing climbed him but Corvo grabbed it before it made its way to his face and slammed it to the floor as hard as he could. He hoped there was no one in the room below them to hear the thud.

The impact with the floor seemed to do the trick. The hand lay still.

He took an empty jar off one of the shelves and carefully upturned it over the strange disembodied appendage, then slid the metal lid underneath and screwed it shut. It’s not as if the thing needed to breath, he assumed.

Now that the hand was unmoving Corvo saw what made it special. A very familiar Mark was visible on the wrinkled greying skin of the mummified hand. Corvo’s eyes slid from the hand, to the portrait near the shrine and back again.

“Hello again, Vera.”

He had some time before the sedative wore off, so he set the gang boss upright in his desk chair, and tied him to it with lengths of twine.

With Paolo secured, Corvo turned to the window overlooking the saloon’s front entrance. Members of the gang wandered the area, keeping watch and searching patrons for weapons before they entered the business. They were just organized enough to be intimidating but not organized enough to be a destabilizing threat to the community. Yet.

The easiest way to handle the Howlers would be to kill Paolo. Corvo knew that. But he also knew that power vacuums can be just as dangerous as gangs. Criminal operations like this didn’t crop up for no reason. The formation of the Howlers had just as much to do with the environment that allowed them to grow as it did with Paolo’s cunning and ruthlessness.

Getting rid of Paolo would cause one of his lieutenants to take over. Killing all of his lieutenants would scatter the rest of the gang to all corners of the city. They might do more harm separately than under Paolo’s leadership.

Paolo’s magic probably inspired fear as well as loyalty. Perhaps Corvo could do the same.

Underneath the serious exterior, Corvo Attano knew how to put on a show when it was necessary. So, when Paolo finally began to stir half an hour later, Corvo was prepared to make a lasting impression.

He’d set the scene well. The sun was getting low in the sky and cast orange rays of light through the windows. Corvo was lounging in the window frame in silhouette with the light behind him when Paolo regained consciousness. 

Corvo drew his pistol and pointed it right at Paolo’s head. He lifted a finger to his masked face in a shushing gesture. “Call for help, and anyone who comes running ends up dead. I’m on the fence about whether or not to kill you, so you might actually live through this. Understood?”

Paolo narrowed his eyes but nodded his head.

“Good.” Corvo removed his mask and breathed a sigh of relief. He made a show of running his wrapped hand through his hair and scratching his beard. In his defense, both were mussed by wearing the mask.

Paolo squinted at him and cocked his head. “You— you’re Corvo Attano,” Paolo slurred, tongue heavy from the sedative. “But they say you died.”

“You’ve died before too, Paolo.” Corvo pulled the jar out from behind his back and held it close to his face. “Never thought I’d see her again,” Corvo mused as he tapped the glass. The hand clamored and clawed uselessly against the barrier. He sighed fondly. “I knew Vera Moray back in Dunwall.”

Paolo tried in vain to move his limbs.

“Oh, you didn’t know that?” Corvo deposited the jar on the floor and leaned back against the wall. “It must have been over twelve years now. She was holed up in the sewers and about to make a local gang boss into a stew. While he was still alive.” Corvo shrugged.

“Slackjaw wasn’t the best humanity had to offer, sure. But his gang wasn’t the worst of the bunch either. It was at the height of the rat plague and the only elixir the common people could get was the stuff the Bottle Street Gang brewed.” He leaned his head back against the window frame and sighed fondly, as if reminiscing on those days didn’t make him want to shake apart. But for the sake of this performance, Corvo needed to put up a front.

“They sold it at a profit, obviously. They weren’t running a charity. But their stranglehold on the community held it together in a time when everything was coming apart. They kept thousands of people alive. And I thought… sometimes a gang can serve a purpose, especially when the government fails or can’t be trusted.” He steepled his fingers together in front of his face. “They can step in to fill a need. So when Vera asked me, ever so politely, to help her tear the flesh from old Slackjaw’s bones…” He held up the jar with her hand. “I made a choice.”

He pushed up from his seat in the window and came to sit beside Paolo on a neighboring chair. “Do the Howlers serve a purpose, Paolo? Or is your gang of criminal scum better off as stew for the poor?”

Paolo scowled. “You trying to run my gang by proxy, Royal Protector? Call the shots from on high and in the shadows?”

“Would you rather I kill you and the murdering monsters you call ‘family’?”

“What the fuck would you know about them?” Paolo spat. “You look down your nose at us, just because you made it out of Batista all the way to Dunwall Tower. But you’re not better than us.”

Corvo leaned in, inches from Paolo’s face. “No. I’m not better than you because of where I live or the nobles I rub elbows with. I’m better than you, because I don’t lure good people to their deaths by pretending to need help. I don’t force children to scavenge in the sewers until they die of exposure.”

Paolo snorted. “You’ve got a fanciful imagination, Lord Attano. We’re not innocents, but that’s not how my gang operates.”

Corvo rolled his eyes. “You’re not a bad liar, at least.”

“I’m not lying!” Paolo hissed.

Corvo leaned back, stunned. “You think you’re telling the truth.” He ran a hand over his face and tried not laugh in Paolo’s. “Maybe I should kill you and let someone competent run this gang. Mindy looks like she can handle your people.”

Struggling against his bonds a bit, Paolo asked, “Those things you said. They were real specific. Who told you that?”

“Someone I trust. It was the man with the lazy eye and gut who killed the child in the sewers.” Corvo watched closely as Paolo curled his lip, but remained silent. “As for luring helpful citizens to their deaths, I’m sorry to say I was fool enough to fall for that one. I thought a woman was about to be assaulted in an alley. Something was off in her voice, but good citizen that I am…”

Paolo cursed and spit at the ground. “I told them no more of that shit. That was a direct order.”

“And why did you put a stop to that, Paolo?” Corvo leaned back. “Humor me.”

“Kill all the good natured people in the district, and there’ll be no one left to pay us protection money,” Paolo said with a cocky smile. He relaxed then and added, “And if we get a reputation for random killings, it’ll attract too much heat. We’re not ready to take on the Grand Guard. Not that the Duke gives a fuck about murders in Batista, but Stilton does.” He shrugged. “We play a touch nicer to keep from pissing him off and bringing the hammer down on us. Honest enough for you?”

Corvo leaned back and considered that. In this world, Stilton never disappeared and the Howlers, or at least their leader, was a bit less violent as a result. Paolo wasn’t completely unreasonable then, and Corvo could work with that. But obviously Paolo’s restraint didn’t sit well with everyone in his gang if murders were being committed behind his back. And if his people felt comfortable enough to lie about what they were doing on their patrols, it didn’t bode well for Paolo’s longevity, magic hand or not.

Corvo massaged a crick in his neck and thought about the best way to handle this. There were no good options at the moment, and he still had a conspiracy to disrupt. He needed to limit the damage the Howlers would do the district while he took care of the bigger picture.

“Your people don’t seem to respect you very much,” Corvo said casually. “They fear you, I’m sure. But if they respected you, they wouldn’t be killing behind your back.” He shook his head. “The average person on the street seems to know what your people are capable of. But you didn’t see what was going on right under your own nose.”

Paolo lunged forward in his bonds. “You think this is easy, Lord Attano?” he asked with a sneer. “How many people who work under you do do the exact same things? Only they have fancy uniforms and authority so they get away with it.”

“I have no illusions about the problems within the City Watch.” Corvo leaned forward. “But I’m actively trying to stop it. Every. Single. Day.”

Paolo went still. “Give me a week. I’ll have my gang falling in line.”

Corvo nodded and rose from the chair. “We’ll see.”

“Hey! Are you gonna untie me?” Paolo called out as he strained in the chair.

Corvo shrugged. “Someone will come looking for you.” He fitted the mask back over his face and opened the far window. “And Paolo? Have some subtly in the future. If you keep getting stabbed in fights and pulling your little ‘trick’ for people to gossip about, you’ll have the Abbey at your door. Don’t be a show off.”

Paolo snorted. “So what do you call your little performance then?”

Despite himself, Corvo laughed. “Fair point.”

And with that, Corvo slowed time and transversed across the courtyard to an empty balcony. When the flow of time resumed he heard Paolo mutter,

“What the— Wow. Gotta learn how to do that.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains Corvo Talkin' Dirty™ during sex. I don't have it in the tags b/c it's just this one scene and it's probably covered in the E rating anyway. But just a heads up if you blush easily. ;)

Corvo was awake with the sun most mornings. He had a strict exercise routine he stuck to and liked to begin his day with brisk physical activity. But there was no time time today.

He had a meeting with Alma at a nearby cafe so she could brief him on what Norman and Jana had learned so far. It took longer to get the information this way, but with so many powerful people conspiring against Emily, he didn’t want to take the chance of being recognized meeting with either of them. It was risky enough to meet Alma.

He’d barely stepped foot outside his apartment building when he caught sight of the Grand Guard hanging a poster in the courtyard. Corvo slid into an alley and waited until they were gone. Once he was alone, he checked the notice board.

His blood froze at what he saw: a wanted poster for the Masked Felon.

Corvo stared at the announcement and scowled. He was having enough moments of deja vu during his explorations of his home city. But this wasn’t a fond memory from his childhood resurfacing on a familiar street corner. This brought back memories from the worst days of his life, and now it was plastered on a notice board for everyone to see.

His eyes widened as he read the poster. “The Masked Felon” was wanted for the murder of Horatio Weatherby!

Corvo’s stomach dropped. He’d been in Weatherby’s store recently, and now the man was dead. The poster said Weatherby had been killed in a manner “unsuitable to describe in print” and that an anonymous witness saw the Masked Felon fleeing the site of the murder.

He groaned and rubbed his face. Obviously, he didn’t kill Weatherby. But someone was framing him— or rather, they were framing the Masked Felon— for the murder. It wasn’t difficult to guess who was behind this. Delilah and her conspirators knew he was in Karnaca working against them, but they couldn’t announce that Corvo Attano was alive without presenting evidence. Claiming to have seen the infamous Masked Felon from Dunwall was the next best thing. They’d let the people draw their own conclusions.

The words written in the anonymous note— the Outsider’s note— made more sense now. _“There is a conspiracy to undermine, and eventually overthrow, Empress Emily Kaldwin.”_ Killing Emily’s political enemies and making it look like she was ordering assassinations was a sure way to turn even her staunchest allies against her.

Clenching his hands at his sides, Corvo practiced tensing and relaxing his muscles to calm himself. There was nothing to be done about this right now. He could only hope his meeting with Alma was productive.

* * *

The meeting with Alma was not productive.

He didn’t blame Norman or Jana, of course. But Corvo had dared to hope that his adversaries would slip up and do something overtly suspicious. Was it too much ask that they leave a memorandum titled “Our Master Plan: A Summary in 5 points” out in the open?

So far, Norman had very little to report. His job kept him on the lower levels with the Conservatory’s preservationists most days. He’d only seen Breanna Ashworth a handful of times. She met with people frequently— natural philosophers, explorers, horticulturists, architects. But her position as curator required her to consult with experts in a variety of fields.

The only useful information Norman had been able to provide was that Ashworth and Jindosh met after hours, consulting on some sort of project. But Jindosh only ever entered or left her office with stacks of papers under his arms, so Norman didn’t even have a description of what they were working on.

Norman took a risk and broke into Ashworth’s office one night after she left for the day. He hoped to find some evidence Jindosh had left behind. But the only thing out of the ordinary he saw was a new statue in the curator’s office.

Jana’s information was slightly more illuminating. Her work as a maid gave her access to most areas of Jindosh’s mansion. But the laboratory was off limits to everyone except the Royal Inventor himself.

She’d taken an enormous risk one evening after she clocked out and crawled inside a maintenance shaft. Jana got lost in the walls for hours but eventually found her way to a locked door. On the other side of that door, was Jindosh’s lab.

Alma kept her face friendly and voice conversational as she relayed the story.

“Jana said she looked through the keyhole and spied on him for as long as she could. There were lenses everywhere, like for a spyglass but bigger. Jindosh spent hours focusing and adjusting them.” She took a careful sip of her tea. “Eventually he moved on to another project. Jana said he spent another hour talking into an audiograph, making strange statements. ‘The machine this. The machine that.’ She couldn’t figure out what he was up to before she had to report in for her morning shift.” Alma sighed. “The poor dear didn’t get a wink of rest. She says to apologize she couldn’t overhear more, but she wrote down everything she saw on the chalkboards.”

Alma handed over a slip of paper with formulas and notes jotted down. It looked like gibberish but Corvo had no reason to doubt Jana’s perfect memory. Whatever this was, it was simply over his head.

Corvo rested his chin on a propped fist. It was gutsy of Jana go spying on Jindosh so directly. Part of him wanted to tell her not to take a risk like that again. But the conspirators had already killed one of Emily’s most obnoxiously vocal rivals. There would be more murders. The sooner he could figure out what they were planning, the sooner he could stop this madness.

“That’s fine, Alma. Just tell her to report anything she sees. Even if it doesn’t seem important.”

Corvo paused when he heard the approaching footsteps of a Grand Guard patrol, and casually rubbed the side of his face to obscure his profile as they passed by the small eatery. Once they’d gone he looked back up to Alma, almost sheepishly. “There’s something else, too.”

Alma tightened her lips and frowned. Her eyes darted from the guards making their way down the block and back to Corvo. “I thought no one knew you were here.” She kept her voice amiable and eyes soft, but Corvo could feel her tension rising.

How could he possibly explain this without sounding mad? He couldn’t say ‘Oh Alma, I forgot to mention it earlier, but I traveled back in time and saw a dead witch break free of the Void itself. She spotted me and now she knows that I know about her plot to usurp Emily’s throne and then become a god. Also, she’s immortal.’

He realized he’d drifted into his own thoughts and Alma was still waiting for an answer. “They only know about me. They don’t know about you or Norman or Jana. There’s no possible way for them to have figured that out.” He hoped. “But they’re moving quickly now. They’ve already…” He lowered his voice. “They’ve already killed someone and framed me for it.”

Alma raised her cup to her face to hide the twitch in her upper lip. “Oh dear. That is… a predicament,” she said, less than convincingly. “Is this going to force you to act rashly?”

Corvo stiffened under her scrutiny. “I want to do this the right way. I want to expose them and put them on trial.”

That was the original plan, wasn’t it? But if Delilah was as powerful as she seemed, putting her on trial might not even be possible. Still, the people she recruited to help her could be dealt with through legal means. He just had to expose them and take care of the witch himself. Somehow.

Corvo finished the rest of his tea. “Tell Norman and Jana to be careful. I know Ashworth and Jindosh are involved, but I need to know what is is they’re planning.” He traced the delicate pattern on the tea cup and sighed. “If they’re plotting another murder, any information at all could be helpful.”

Alma nodded. “I’ll tell them.”

* * *

Sweat rolled down the bridge of Corvo's nose as he tried to keep pace with his partner. “I’m the one fucking you,” he panted. He adjusted his grip on his lover’s hips as he drove forward. “So why does it feel like you’re driving the action?”

Even braced on his hands and knees, the young man was a force of nature in bed. He cast a glance over his shoulder, smirked, and then clenched down. Corvo gasped and nearly doubled over.

“Can’t keep up, Corvo?” He arched his spine and pushed back to meet Corvo’s thrusts. “I can ride you if you’re tired already.”

Corvo growled playfully and felt his lover shiver beneath him. “Oh, I have plenty of stamina left.” He leaned forward and pressed his palms flat against the young man’s chest. “But since you offered so nicely…”

He kept a firm grip and pinned the other man to his chest. Then, Corvo leaned back and settled on his knees.

“Ah!” his lover keened as he tilted back with him.

Corvo grinned as the young man leaned his head to rest on Corvo’s shoulder and he settled into the new position.

“Is this alright?” Corvo whispered.

His lover nodded enthusiastically. He spread his legs wide on either side of Corvo’s hips, and began to rock.

Corvo kept one hand against his chest while the other explored lower. He nibbled on the young man’s neck and gripped his cock, stroking him slow and teasing.

His partner whined and drove himself into Corvo’s tight grip. 

“Hmm?” Corvo hummed. “I thought you wanted to ride me, not get stroked off.” He stroked, then thrust in an alternating pattern. “So which is it?”

The young man moaned and rocked himself harder, babbling a string of unfamiliar words. Corvo smirked. He didn’t know the language, but he could recognize a string of filthy expletives in any tongue.

And that gave him an idea.

“That’s it,” Corvo said through gritted teeth as he fought to hold himself in check. He stroked his partner faster and tested the waters. “Work yourself on my cock.”

His lover let out soft moans on each downward thrust— _ah, ah, ah_ — and his eyes rolled back.

Oh. He liked that. “You’re so tight,” Corvo growled between sucking bruises on his neck. “I could probably fuck you for hours and you’d still feel like a vice.”

The young man whimpered and tightened around him.

“Would you like that? Do you want me to fuck you for hours on end?” Corvo tweaked a pink nipple between his fingers and his partner gasped. “They sell elixirs for that kind of thing. I could spare a few days once the weather gets cooler and spend the entire time inside you.” He caressed the young man’s flank and squeezed. “See how long it takes to wear you out.”

“Ah!!” the young man cried and his body went rigid.

“See how long it takes you to go hoarse from screaming my name.”

“Corvo!”

His lover came around him with a broken cry and he threw his head back.

Corvo was close behind. He gripped his partner around the waist and buried himself to the root as he muffled his own sounds of pleasure in the pale shoulder in front of him.

They fell forward and Corvo rolled to the side. “So, you enjoy filthy talk in bed.” Corvo chuckled, catching his breath. “I’ll remember that.”

The young man’s face fell and he averted his eyes. “No, you won’t.”

“Mm?” he mumbled, sleepy and sated. “I won’t what?”

“Never mind. It’s not important.”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Corvo kissed the top of his head. “I was just teasing. I won’t do it again if you—” Corvo was cut off by a finger pressed to his lips.

“I liked it,” the young man said, a bit shy. “Feel free to do it again.”

Corvo murmured into his ear. “I meant every word of it, too.” 

They lay curled alongside each other, panting and sated. Corvo stared at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes as his hands caressed the young man at his side.

He hadn’t felt this way in a very long time. It was different with him than it had been with Jessamine. It wasn’t better. Or worse. It was simply… different. But nevertheless, Corvo knew this was real and he wanted to share as much of himself as he could when they were together. He pursed his lips and considered how to broach the subject.

“The sounds you make when I’m inside you are intoxicating,” he whispered. His lover shivered against him. “I wonder what kind of sounds… I’d make.”

The young man went still. “Corvo, what are you saying?”

Corvo rolled his eyes. “I mean, we could try it the other way. If you wanted.”

“But you’ve never…” he trailed off.

“Well, no. But just because I’m an old man—”

“Not that old.”

Corvo laughed. “Just because I’m an older man, doesn’t mean I’m afraid to try new things.” He trailed his fingers down his lover’s back. “I’d probably like it. You certainly seem to.”

Green eyes sparkled at Corvo from beneath dark lashes. “I do,” he said with a coy smile. “I enjoy it a great deal. But…”

Corvo sighed. “You don’t want to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” The young man sat up a bit gingerly. “But you’re asking for something that would be new… for us both.”

Corvo’s half-closed eyes shot open. “So you’ve never—”

“And if we do,” the young man interrupted, “I want to have your explicit consent.”

“You have it,” Corvo said, confused.

His lover hung his head, but after a few moments he looked back to Corvo. “I can’t be certain you’d make an offer like that if you were awake, so I’ll have to decline.” He smiled mischievously. “Plus, it would be a shame for you explore something new and not even get to remember it.”

“What do you mean?” Corvo sat up. “I’m not drunk. I haven’t smoked anything.”

The young man sighed and swiped long-fingered hands across his face. “I could try to unlock your memories again. But it would leave me even weaker than I already am, and…”

Corvo furrowed his brows, certain he was missing some important part of the conversation.

His lover turned to him. “If I don’t exist after all of this over, you’d be burdened with the memory of two lovers you failed to save from assassination.” He traced the path of Corvo’s jawline with a finger. “Perhaps ignorance would be… kinder.”

Corvo’s skin went cold. “Assassination? You’re in trouble, aren’t you?”

His partner went still. He closed his eyes and cocked his head, as if he were hearing something Corvo couldn’t. When he opened his eyes again, just for the briefest moment, they flashed black.

“I’m not the only one who’s in trouble, Corvo. Someone’s coming.”

Corvo sat upright and listened, but he didn’t hear anything.

“What are you—”

The young man pressed his palms flat against Corvo’s chest and shoved.

“Wake up!”


	12. Chapter 12

Corvo snapped awake just as the door to his rented room burst open. The Grand Guard poured inside, guns drawn. There was no time to think. Only act.

With a clench of his left hand, he froze time and reached for the bag under his bed. He’d been afraid something like this would happen, so he never bothered to unpack his things. He zipped up his money, supplies and clothes with a quick jerk of his arm and slung the bag over his shoulder. The bag with his weapons was on the other side of the room and he reached it just as time resumed.

“Stop right there!”

There was only one way out now. Clad in nothing but his underwear, Corvo leapt for the window and dove into the courtyard below.

“Crazy son of a—” one of the guards cried in shock.

Just before impact, he transversed space and broke his fall a few feet above the street. Corvo hit the ground running, bare feet slipping on cobblestones slick with evening rain.

He was so focused on the commotion in the building behind him he almost didn’t notice the wall of light! Corvo skidded to a halt and barely avoided incineration. With the courtyard locked off, he dove into the small alley that connected two of the apartment building’s arms. But the end of that alley was blocked by a wall of light as well. He looked to the sky and heard boots on the rooftops of the neighboring buildings. The Grand Guard came prepared!

Corvo’s heart sank and all hope that this was some random midnight raid disappeared. This operation had taken time and planning. These men had everything in place before they approached his door. The Duke’s resources and Delilah’s orders were behind this. But how did they find him?

He snarled and threw his bag on the ground. Water dripped into his eyes as he searched for stun mines and sleep darts. He was cornered, but he could turn the close quarters of the alley to his advantage with the right traps. But before he could set up his supplies, a voice called out to him.

“Psst, Corvo!”

A woman peeked out from the shadows of one of the recessed doorways that lined the alley. Her clothes were wet and tendrils of her hair stuck to the sides of her face. The small doorway had been set up as a makeshift shelter with a tarp pulled to one side and the remnants of a lean-to built against the bricks. But obviously it hadn’t kept the weather out. From the looks of the canned goods piled at the woman’s feet it seemed like she’d been camped out in the alley for weeks.

So how had he not noticed her before?

“Corvo,” she whispered again, panicked. She waved him over and Corvo, too shocked to reply, hurried to her. “Stay behind me. And stay still.”

“What in the—” His eyes widened as he got a better look at her. Her damp red hair fell around her shoulders and her face was thinner than it had been the last time they’d seen each other— at Samuel’s funeral. “Cecelia?”

“This is going to be hard, because they’re actively looking for you. So, let me concentrate.” She shoved him against the brick and plastered her body against his, her back to his front.

Corvo heard the sound of boots thundering down the alley and he tensed up as they grew closer.

“Spread out!” the captain bellowed. “He can’t have gone far!”

He needed to ready his weapons. He needed to throw down mines and put some distance between himself and the guards. He shouldn’t be cowering in a filthy alley in his underpants. But when Corvo tried to step forward, Cecelia shoved her weight back against him.

“Stay still, or they’ll see us!” she hissed.

“We’re hiding in a doorway,” he whispered back. “They’ll see us as soon as they turn the corner.”

She turned her head and met his eyes. “Corvo, do you trust me?”

Corvo surprised himself with the immediacy of his answer. “Yes.”

“Then stand _perfectly_ still and don’t make a sound.” She turned back around. “No matter what.”

It was madness but somehow Corvo believed her, so he did as Cecelia said. He stood in the shadow of a recessed doorway behind a woman he’d barely spoken to in years and waited for the Grand Guard to find them.

“We’ll search down this way,” one of the men called out. “You and Ramirez take the other side of the building. He can’t have gotten through the perimeter.”

Corvo’s heartbeat echoed in his ears as he prepared for the fight to come.

“Stay still,” Cecelia repeated, barely audible. “Try to… project calmness.”

Corvo balked. Project calmness? Was she serious?

The footsteps grew closer. The guards moved slowly, turning over rubbish and slashing bushes with swords. The corners of Corvo’s mouth ticked upwards as a guard across the alley gingerly lifted a milk crate with the toe of his boot, gun aimed as if Corvo might pop out from underneath. But his amusement evaporated when the guard turned around and came face-to-face with their hiding spot.

The guard’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to call out. Corvo clenched his left hand, prepared to leap into action but Cecelia reached back and squeezed his hand tightly. That’s when he felt something shift in the air around them.

The world went crisp and seemed to slow down. It wasn’t the same as when he slowed time. This feeling was more in his head than in the world around them. Corvo looked to Cecelia, who was staring the guard dead in the eyes.

The open-mouthed guard was no longer trying to form words. His mouth hung slack and wordless as the shock in his eyes faded. There was a moment of confusion on his face, like someone who trailed off mid-sentence and forgot the point of their story. The guard’s face shuttered and went blank. He returned to his search.

Corvo held his breath as the guard swept his gun and back forth across the alley. His eyes scanned over their hiding spot several times as he made thorough work of his assigned area. But each time he looked at them, he didn’t react to their presence. It was as if they were invisible. 

Guards combed the apartment buildings, alleyways and attached courtyards for over an hour. They woke residents from their beds and Corvo could hear his neighbors scramble about in confusion, hiding contraband before each patrol reached their doors.

He and Cecelia stood together in the shadow of the doorway, Cecelia in front of him the entire time, her body unnaturally still. All around them there was the eerie sensation that the world, or rather his perception of it, was crisp and slow.

“Nothing sir,” a guard’s voice echoed from near the mouth of the alley. “We’ve searched everywhere. Every apartment, every closet, and every dumpster. I don’t know how he could have escaped.”

“Damn it,” the captain growled. “The Duke will our heads for this!”

“Sir, we couldn’t possibly have— We did everything we—” The lower-ranking guard sputtered. “Will he really have our heads?”

The captain grumbled under his breath. “Depends on his mood.” He sighed. “Come on then. Get the others. The longer we keep him waiting for the bad news the worse it’ll be.”

The guards filed out into the courtyard, took down the barricades and walls-of-light and marched off. The apartments above them were buzzing now, with residents wide awake and wondering what had just happened.

Corvo sighed with relief and Cecelia sagged against him, her legs shaking.

“Whoa,” she whispered. “I’ve never had to do it that long before.”

“What did you do?” Corvo asked as he reached around her waist to help her stand upright.

“It’s uh— it’s complicated.”

Corvo looked down to her left hand, but it was bare.

Cecelia chuckled under her breath. “Just a… trick I know how to do.”

“He looked right past us.” Corvo finally let the sheer magnitude of what Cecelia had just done settle in. “It was like he couldn’t see us.”

Cecelia leaned against Corvo. “He could see us,” she said wearily. “He just… forgot to notice us. Like when you can’t find something but then suddenly you look down and you were staring right at it the entire time.”

“I don’t understand.” Corvo lowered her shaking form to the ground so she could lean against the wall. He pressed a hand to her forehead but she didn’t seem ill. “Are you alright?”

“Fine. Just tired. Like I said, I never had to… hold it for that long…” She trailed off and lost consciousness.

Corvo pressed two fingers to her neck. Her pulse was strong and her breathing steady. She was exhausted but uninjured.

He sat down in the dirty alley next to her and leaned his head back against the bricks. His apartment was blown. There was no going back to it now. Somehow they’d found him.

He needed to get Cecelia somewhere safe while she recovered and he wracked his brain for a safe place. Stilton’s was off limits. The Duke would be waiting for him to go there. Briefly, he considered Alma’s house. But he couldn’t risk drawing the attention of the Grand Guard to her door or any of his spies.

Corvo didn’t know anyone else in Karnaca he could trust. Unless…

He did know one other person who’d be willing to help. The problem was, ever since he’d changed the events of the past, she wouldn’t remember offering.

* * *

He gathered the meager belongings in Cecelia’s shelter into one of his bags and carried her along the rooftops of Karnaca towards the harbor. But when it came to securing a boat, he had to do that from the ground. Corvo took the time to dress himself before he wandered the docks of Campo Seta. And he took Cecelia with him.

Carrying an unconscious woman around the docks in the middle of the night should have aroused more attention than it did from the few late night workers and unsavory characters who glanced his way. He wasn’t sure what it said about the state of the city that no one called for the guards.

Corvo stood at the edge of the dockyard and scanned the ships that were anchored in the harbor until he saw it: the Dreadful Wale. The last thing he needed were reports of a stolen vessel to lead the Grand Guard to his refuge. Paying for a ride was safer, even if it did leave a witness.

It didn’t take long to find a small skiff with a grey-haired old man sleeping along the back bench. From the looks of the discarded cans and bottles littering the vessel, the old man lived here. He clearly needed some coin.

Corvo cleared his throat loudly enough that the old man startled awake.

“I paid my dock fee. What’s it matter if I sleep—” The old man stopped and squinted at Corvo. “You’re not the dock master.”

“Um, no. I was hoping to pay for short ride. My friends are anchored in the harbor. They left us at the bar and now my sister’s passed out drunk,” he said, repositioning Cecelia in his arms. “We don’t have enough left to rent a room at the inn.”

The old man narrowed his eyes and looked from Cecelia to Corvo and back again. “Sister, eh?”

Corvo stared him in the eyes, unwavering. “Yes, my younger sister. What was I suppose to do when those sods left? Just leave her there drunk off her ass with no one to watch her back?” He sighed. “Look, I’ll give you five coin to take us. You want to make some money or not?”

The old man shrugged, apparently satisfied, and waved Corvo onto the flimsy vessel. Corvo pointed him in the direction of the Wale and held his breath as they approached. The cargo ship was dark, but not unmanned. A small lantern burned on the bridge. As the skiff approached and the noise of its tinny engine was carried on the crisp night air, Corvo saw another light flick on in the bridge as well. Someone was awake now.

“I’m not some sort of homeless drunk,” the old man said, a bit sheepish as they made their way. “I just have trouble sleeping on land is all.”

“No judgement from me,” Corvo assured him. “We all have our quirks.”

By the time they pulled up alongside the Dreadful Wale, Meagan Foster was dressed and leaning over the taffrail, eyes narrowed and right hand buried casually in her jacket. Probably concealing a pistol.

Corvo gasped. That was new. Meagan had both her hands and eyes now. Whatever happened to her before must have had to do with Stilton’s disappearance. Since that never happened, Meagan never got injured. He smiled a bit, glad she was spared that pain. He was so lost in thought he almost forgot to call her off as she began to slowly draw the gun.

“Meagan!” he called, trying to sound jovial and familiar to a woman who had no idea they’d met before. “Foster! It’s just us! We spent too much on drink to afford a room after all, so we got a ride back.”

Meagan froze and shuttered her curiosity behind a mask of annoyance. “Knew I shouldn’t have left so early,” she said, playing along. Meagan dropped down the ratline for Corvo to hoist himself and Cecelia up. She smiled affably at the old man piloting the skiff. “How much did this choffer promise you?”

“I’ve got it,” Corvo said, forcing a smile. “I have enough left to pay him.” He dug a coin-of-five out of his pocket and tossed it to the old man.

“Sorry if I seemed suspicious,” the old man said. “Never can be too careful nowadays. Man carrying around an unconscious lady and all…”

Corvo waved him off. “It’s alright. Thanks for the ride.”

Meagan waited until the skiff was a safe distance away before she pulled the gun on Corvo.

He knew it was coming. He’d already laid Cecelia on the deck and positioned himself between Meagan and her just in case this version of Meagan Foster was less composed than the one he’d met in the past. Luckily, her hands were steady.

“How did you know where to find me?” she asked. “Stilton swore he didn’t reveal any details about me other than my first name, which you already knew _somehow_. And I know he didn’t tell you about my boat.”

Corvo made sure to keep his hands out in the open. “It’s my job to know things.”

Meagan’s face cycled through several different emotions in a fraction of a second before her face went neutral. She was good, but Corvo caught the flicker of fear just before she contained it. Interesting. Why would she be afraid of him?

The flick of his hand was subtle as he summoned the Heart.

_“She has secrets I will not reveal. She may tell you in time.”_

Corvo pursed his lips, annoyed. That was beyond unhelpful.

“I— we,” he motioned to Cecelia, “need somewhere to lay low. The room I was renting was raided by the Grand Guard tonight.”

“They knock her out?”

Corvo shook his head. “No, she passed out. Exhaustion. I think she’s been living on the streets, and then she… It’s a long story.”

Meagan relaxed a bit, but kept the gun on him. “Will they have any way to find you?” She motioned to his two bags. “Did you leave any evidence behind or was that everything you had?”

“I kept my bags packed, just in case. As soon as they breached the door I grabbed my things and jumped out the window. The room’s clean.”

“So where did she come in?”

“She’s a friend from Dunwall. I’m—” He hesitated about what to tell her, but Corvo had a feeling that outright lying to Meagan probably wasn’t the best idea. “I had no idea she was in Karnaca before a few hours ago. But she helped me hide from the guard until they cleared out.”

She scowled. “Quite the coincidence. An old friend from Dunwall shows up just when you need her?” Her grip on the pistol tightened but Meagan kept her finger off the trigger. “That didn’t seem suspicious to you?”

“Obviously it did. But I know her. And she—” He glanced down at Cecelia’s sleeping face. “I trust her.”

“And you trust me, apparently.” Meagan’s face went cold. “But you don’t have the best luck trusting people, do you Lord Attano?”

Corvo bristled but maintained himself. She was probing for weak spots. And he’d let her for now.

“In fact, if the rumors were correct, the last time you trusted a group of people with common goals you were poisoned for the trouble.”

Corvo clenched his jaw and took a calming breath. “And the last time I tried to save an Empress, she bled to death in my arms.” His steeled himself through the wave of self-inflicted grief. “But that won’t stop me from trying to save another.”

Meagan looked like she’d been struck. Her chin trembled and breath hitched before Corvo knew what to make of it.

“Let’s get you two down below,” Meagan said quickly. “I’ve got two rooms empty, as luck would have it. And when your friend from Dunwall wakes up we can figure some things out.”

* * *

Corvo kept vigil next to Cecelia until sunrise. When she finally started to stir, he helped her sit up and lifted a glass of water to her face.

“What hap—” She looked around. “Where are we?”

“We’re on a cargo vessel anchored in the harbor. One of Stilton’s allies owns it and we’re laying low.”

Cecelia sat up slowly. “How’d we get out here?”

“We got a ride from an old man at the docks.” Corvo smiled to himself. “He reminded me a bit of Samuel.”

Cecelia finished the water and sighed. “You miss him too. Samuel, I mean.” She smiled shyly. “On the other ship, you used his name. I think he’d have liked that.”

Corvo went still. “The stolen hardtack on the trip down here. That was you?”

Cecelia lowered her eyes sheepishly. “I’m sorry you got blamed for that. But I had to eat something.” She adjusted her pillow on the small cot. “You just had to take the slowest cargo ship in the all the isles, didn’t you? I snuck hardtack and leftover gruel for a month, Corvo!” But there was no anger in her voice as she scolded him.

“How did you even get on that ship to follow me here? You would’ve had to…” His mind spun with the implications. She must have left Dunwall with him! The dinghy he took to shore just outside Potterstead had seemed a bit unbalanced. And now it made sense. He’d had a passenger he didn’t notice! And she stowed away on the cargo ship he took the next morning.

“How do you do that? Go unnoticed the way you do?”

Cecelia shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know.” She laughed to herself. “I didn’t even realize I could do it until Ceo—” She cut herself off abruptly. “I think I’ve been doing it all my life without realizing it. But then several years ago I started to practice controlling it and now I can do it on purpose.”

Corvo narrowed his eyes but let whatever she’d been about to say slide. He’d focus on the necessary information for now and worry about her secrets later.

“You always complained that you felt invisible.” A weight settled in his gut when he thought about those days during the plague. “And you did escape Havelock’s executions.” He hummed in thought. “That’s a very useful talent.”

“It certainly has been the last several weeks.” Her face faltered and she quickly added, “I gave you your privacy,” she assured him. “I just stayed close by in case there was trouble.”

“Were you sleeping in the alley outside my building this whole time?”

Cecelia blushed and stared at her hands. “It had clear sight lines of both front and rear exits. So, I figured I wouldn’t miss you coming and going.”

Corvo rubbed his forehead. He’d had a tail the entire time he was in Karnaca and he never noticed. Something else occurred to him too. “What have you been doing for food if you’ve been following me during the day?”

Cecelia swallowed and chewed the inside of her cheek.

“Shoplifting from stores when I went to get groceries?” Corvo guessed.

Her face went pinched. “I left coin behind! But I guess they didn’t know what it was for…”

Well, that solved the mystery of Corvo’s bad reputation in the neighborhood. But the obvious question remained. “Cecelia… _why_ did you follow me to Karnaca?”

She ran a hand across the back of her neck and cast a meaningful glance to his left hand. “He asked me to.”

Corvo released a small punched-out breath. “He asked you to _spy_ on me?”

“No. He told me to help you if you ever needed a quick escape. And I did.”

The Outsider sent Cecelia to protect him? Corvo wasn’t sure what to make of the warm feeling that bloomed in his chest at that thought.

“And you agreed to follow me halfway across the Empire? Just like that? Or…” The warmth in his chest turned cold. “Did he threaten you?”

Cecelia shook her head. “No. I volunteered after what I saw.” She swallowed thickly. “When I was in the Void, he showed me what’ll happen if you don’t stop the conspiracy. There were people frozen in stone. Witches and monsters roaming the streets of Dunwall. The sky was black.” He chin wobbled. “He said it was one of the ‘possibilities.’”

Cecelia took a breath and collected herself. “At first, he just told me to deliver a note to the Tower. So I did. But a few months later he contacted me again. He said you were going to need help in Karnaca and that I should stay close to you.” She met Corvo’s eyes and huffed a laugh. “So I closed up the Hound Pits and followed you when you left Dunwall.”

Corvo inhaled sharply. “You closed it?”

Cecelia shrugged. “It was time. After Samuel died there were a lot of memories there and I… I’ll start fresh somewhere else when all of this is over.”

But something else nagged at Corvo. “Wait. You said you spoke to him in the Void. Did the Outsider pull you there in your sleep? He was able to?”

“No, I went to a shrine.” She hesitated. “I don’t think he’s well.” 

Corvo lowered his eyes. “I think you may be right.”

Someone cleared their throat and Corvo whipped around.

“Glad to see you’re awake,” Meagan said. She leaned against the frame of the hatchway casually, as if she hadn’t been eavesdropping on their entire conversation. “Come on into the galley and I’ll make the four of us some breakfast.”

Corvo startled. “Four?”

Meagan’s mouth curled up in a sly smile. “Your old Royal Physician lives here.”

“Sokolov? He’s… here?”

“You didn’t know? I thought it was your job to know things, Corvo,” Meagan teased.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating a day early! 
> 
> Fun fact: The name Cecelia is a Latin baby name. In Latin the meaning of Cecelia is: Blind. Famous bearer: The blind St. Cecilie, patron saint of music.

Breakfast was an awkward affair. Corvo never expected to see Anton Sokolov again after he’d retired from his position as the Royal Physician. But seeing him here— living humbly on a cargo ship with a friend— was jarring. He was grayer than Corvo expected. His hands— once expressive and strong— now looked frail, with skin so thin Corvo could trace the veins in the dim candlelight. Sokolov’s eyes were sunken and soft around the edges. Gone was most of the old bluster and arrogance that used to define the man.

 _“The years have softened him. He seeks to make up for the wrongs from his past,”_ said the heart.

Corvo thinned his lips, skeptical. Sokolov never wronged him personally, so he had no axe to grind with the old inventor. But he had no illusions about the man Sokolov used to be. Longing for redemption and being able to earn it were two different things. But, Corvo had more immediate worries and couldn’t afford to be picky about his allies right now. 

He ate the thin Serkonan stew that was served for breakfast and relayed the events of the last few months: receiving the anonymous note, traveling to Karnaca, the raid on his apartment. He left out the part about altering the flow of time and his visit from the Outsider. Corvo didn’t want to risk any pieces of his person being taken as ‘samples’ to sate Sokolov’s curiosity.

But his story had a few holes in it without the supernatural time alterations.

“I gotta ask,” Meagan spoke up. “How did you get into Stilton’s that night? I was watching the only entrance and I barely batted an eye the entire evening.” She crossed her arms and a smirk pulled at her lips. “The guards reported spotting a strange intruder around the mansion. But they said he always disappeared as soon as they spotted him. Just… Poof! Like a ghost.”

Corvo chewed a chunk of meat in his stew for longer than necessary before he answered. “Well, I am good at what I do.” Something in her eyes was unconvinced. Mercifully, Meagan let it drop.

“And you say you have spies active in Karnaca?” Sokolov asked.

Corvo nodded. “But for their protection, I want to keep their identities private.”

Meagan raised a hand to silence Sokolov when he looked ready to object. “I understand. After all, you only have Stilton’s word that I’m trustworthy. And you only have my word that Sokolov can be trusted. That’s a lot to take on faith. I’m just glad you took a chance and came here when you were in trouble.” She added casually, “Sorry about pulling a gun on you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Truthfully, Corvo would have been disappointed if Meagan hadn’t reacted the way she did. “I just didn’t want to risk my people’s identities by going to them, and I figured a boat would make a better base of operations than a rented room.”

There was no chance of being overheard by nosy neighbors in the middle of the harbor. Nor would he be caught unaware in another raid out here. The water carried sound so easily that Meagan heard him approaching long before the small boat reached the ship. Plus, they were mobile in case they needed to flee Karnaca.

“It does make a good base,” Meagan said tightly. She took a few steps forward and leaned over Corvo as he sat at the makeshift table. “ _My_ base. We’ll work together, and I’m fine letting you take the lead as a spymaster, but don’t forget who owns this tub of rust.”

Corvo bowed his head. “I won’t.”

Cecelia cleared her throat and Corvo startled. He’d forgotten that she was sitting right next to him.

“Sorry, uh— when I’m nervous I tend to… do my thing.” She waved her hands fluidly in the space around her body. “Old habits.”

“What the—” Sokolov leaned back and stared wide-eyed. “When did she sit down?”

“How can I help?” Cecelia asked, ignoring the shocked old man seated beside her, “I kept hidden before last night because—” She cut herself off. “But now that you know I’m here…”

Corvo rubbed his chin. “If you want to go back to Dunwall you can. But, if you’d like to stay, I could definitely find some use for your talents.”

* * *

Corvo quickly established a routine. He exercised in the morning on the deck of the Dreadful Wale, much to Cecelia and even Megan’s notable appreciation. Then he took the skiff to the docks so he could meet with Alma and listen for more rumors. Having Cecelia tag along was exceptionally useful.

It would arouse suspicion if the skiff was seen coming and going multiple times per day with passengers and no cargo. So every time they made a trip to the shore, Cecelia rode along with them so that no one would notice.

Meagan was afraid they’d be in an accident. Boat traffic near the docks was heavy and if no one saw them, they could get hit. But, astonishingly, it was just as Cecelia had said in the alley. People did see them on some level. Ships made way for them to avoid collisions, but the poor sailors navigating didn’t seem to understand why they’d suddenly adjusted course.

The skiff was being seen, but not noticed. That there was a distinction between the two was a new concept to Corvo.

It amazed him every time Cecelia worked her… well, magic was the only way to describe it. But according to Cecelia it wasn’t something she ever learned how to do. It came naturally to her as much as combat always had to him. She practiced at it to become better over the years but the ability itself seemed to be a part of her.

How many people were walking around the world right now, performing subtle magic like this and not even realizing it? The world was a stranger place than he could have ever imagined.

He and Cecelia made their way through the busy streets unseen. It was easier, Cecelia said, to hide them both in a crowd where people weren’t paying attention. During the raid, the guards had been alert and searching. But wandering the streets unseen was easy enough she didn’t have to worry about passing out again. Plus, now she was better rested and fed.

Corvo used this new freedom to check on the apartment he’d abandoned. As he suspected, there were a few guardsmen watching the place—dressed in plainclothes to appear inconspicuous— and grumbling to each other. Corvo motioned for Cecelia to take them closer.

“He won’t be stupid enough to come back here, will he?” one asked.

“Probably not,” the other guard said. “He left the room empty. There’s nothing for him to come back for.”

“So why are we staking it out? It’s a waste.”

“Dunno.” The guard crossed his arms. “The whole investigation seems… off.”

“I know what you mean.” The first guard lowered his voice. “I got a half-decent look at the coward’s face when we busted in and gave my description to the sketch artist. But the captain said they won’t update the posters! Why?”

The guard shook his head. “That’s strange. You’d think they’d want to give the people a real face to look for.”

The first guard bit his lip and hesitated before saying, “Hey, you don’t think this guy is really…”

“Pfft. Attano? No. It’s probably some lunatic copycat who took the Royal Protector’s death too hard. And now he’s lashing out at Her Highnesses enemies in some twisted display of loyalty.” He puffed his chest. “But, that’s just my theory.”

The first guard rolled his eyes. “ _That’s_ your theory?”

“Yes, it is,” the guard said, defensive. “And what’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” the first one said, stifling a smile. “It’s… totally plausible.”

“Oh, shut up. No one asked you.” The guard frowned. “And you’re the idiot who thinks Lord Attano faked his death and is sneaking around Karnaca. That’s way more ridiculous!”

The two of them continued to bicker until Corvo was satisfied he’d heard everything he needed. They had a good point though. Why wouldn’t the Grand Guard update the posters with a better sketch? Obviously the Duke couldn’t announce that he knew Corvo was alive but he could do a better job of implying it. Corvo’s stomach sank when he realized the answer.

The longer the Masked Felon was at large, the more murders Delilah could pin on him. Having him brought to justice too soon would ruin their plans.

He clenched his fists. The sooner his spies could find incriminating evidence against the conspirators, the better.

Alma was running late for their meeting today. Corvo tried not to worry and passed the time reading a note Aramis Stilton left for him at a dead drop about the guard rotations at the Grand Palace.

“I hear good things about Mr. Stilton.” Cecelia swung her legs over dusty cobblestones from where she was perched atop a low fence next to the cafe. “I didn’t get to tag along when you visited him. My um… my trick wasn’t working very well the closer I got to the house and someone saw me.” She shrugged. “So I pretended to be there looking for work and was turned away.”

Corvo paused, realizing that Cecelia only remembered one version of Stilton’s manor. He huffed a laugh as he remembered the distraction that let him slip through the front door in the second version of the present-day manor.

“Was it a snooty butler named Hugh?”

Cecelia smiled. “Yep.”

“He wasn’t fond of me either.” Corvo shrugged and left it at that.

Finally, he spotted Alma making her way down the street towards them. Corvo turned to Cecelia. “Do you think you can keep an eye out for us? Let us know if there are any guards sneaking around or if anyone followed her?”

Cecelia hopped down. “Sure thing.”

Corvo paused and shook his head. What a strange feeling. He’d been talking to someone and then…

“Ah! Samuel!” Alma said, drawing him in for a friendly hug.

They grabbed a table and ordered some tea. Once no one seemed to be paying them any mind, Alma filled him in.

“Jana has some of the paths inside the walls memorized now. She’s been exploring after every shift.” Alma slid a folded piece of paper into Corvo’s hand. “She mapped it out as best she could. There’s no sign of any effigy in the mansion though. Void knows the poor dear has searched everywhere she has permission to go and plenty of places she doesn’t.”

Corvo sighed. “I hate for her to take these risks but tell her to keep looking. That place is a literal maze. It’d be easy for him to hide it. Anything from Norman?”

Alma shook her head. “Because of his position he actually does have access to the safes and storage areas. There’s plenty of weird stuff in there, but nothing that matches the description you gave.”

He clenched his fist and barely suppressed the urge to slam it on the table. If it wasn’t somewhere in the labyrinth of Jindosh’s mansion, then it had to be in the Duke’s palace. The one place they didn’t have access.

“Jana says those lenses Jindosh is working on seem to be top priority. He’s barely had a chance to rest and he’s even worse to work for than usual. Snapping at everyone over everything.”

“And no clue about what the lenses are for?”

Alma shook her head. “Jana’s not sure what anything is in that lab.” Alma slid another piece of paper across the table. “More notes and formulas. For whatever they’re worth.” She sat back. “Other than that, she says there’s lots of machine parts, blades, and ceramic faces.”

Corvo took the paper and tucked it in his vest. “Ceramic… faces?”

“Half faces anyway. The lower half. She thought maybe Jindosh had taken up some strange art hobby at first, but the other night she spied him fitting the pieces onto a machine and talking to it again. ‘The machine is doing this. The machine is experiencing that.’ Weird stuff. But she says it’s not even the weirdest thing she sees in a typical day so…”

“Machines with faces and lenses for seeing… what?” Corvo mused.

He needed to make some progress in this investigation, and quickly. Corvo had a feeling he was running out of time.

* * *

Emily sat heavily in her plush desk chair. It had been a long day of tedious trade meetings and petty grievances from nobles, but the bi-annual meeting with the ambassador from Serkonos had been the worst. She smiled for him and asked all of the questions she was supposed to ask to make it seem like she was taking their meeting seriously. But in the back of her mind Emily wanted to scream.

Whether or not the ambassador was complicit, Emily knew his reports were full of lies. The Duke was plotting something. Every day she sat behind her desk doing nothing was as painful as having glass stuck behind her gums.

Emily clenched her teeth and took a few breaths to steady herself. She had one more meeting before she could meet Alexi for an evening spar. She smiled to herself, remembering the way Alexi’s eyes sparkled the last time she’d managed to get Emily on her back.

A knock on the door focused her attention and she called out for the parties to enter. Even though it wasn’t necessary, she rose to greet High Overseer Khulan and Vice Overseer Byrne.

“High Overseer. Vice Overseer.” She nodded her head respectfully as they bowed to her. “You said there was urgent news?” She waved them to the seats in front of the desk. “I’m glad I was able to accommodate your request for a meeting on such short-notice.”

Khulan had been exceedingly careful to keep imperial politics and Abbey business separate during his tenure as High Overseer. So making sudden requests of the Empress as if she owed him an audience wasn’t unusual.

“Apologies, Empress,” he said, sincerely. “But we’ve just received a missive from the Oracular Order.” Khulan strained to contain the smile that tugged at the corner of his face as he handed the documents over the desk. “We may have good new about your father.”

Emily’s hand froze and she failed to stop the look of panic before it crossed her face. She recovered quickly, but Byrne narrowed his eyes at her.

“I don’t understand,” Emily said.

“It’s the last section of the notes that will interest you.” Khulan gestured for her to open the sealed document. “Typically, these transcripts are only for the eyes of the sisters of the Oracular Order and high-ranking members of the Abbey. But given that the contents may be relevant to your personally, I’ve allowed for this exception.”

Hesitantly, Emily broke the seal:

 

> Transcript
> 
> Eleventh of Timber, 1849
> 
> Sister Allison, Recorder of Proceedings
> 
> Also present Sister Rosewyn, Sister Margaret, and Sister Tabatha.
> 
> The following is the true and complete transcript of the uttering of Sister Rosewyn, Oracle:
> 
> More incense, sisters. Yes. That’s it. I can feel past and the future meld together. Time has no meaning here. I am without body.
> 
> Oh, look, my Sisters! Heresy! Five - no! Ten witches. They are being watched by leviathans and giant predators from the sky. Beasts of all nations frozen in death surround them. These servants of the Void, vile worshippers of… No? It is not the Outsider they serve in their hearts. I don’t understand… I am moving now.
> 
> Finery, all about me. So much wealth in one room. The greed of those gathered here is palpable. They hide a thousand evils from the world and from one another. This den of snakes. They are assembled there this very moment, in a hidden room, the ground slick with whale oil and blasphemous scrawling. Something is reaching out. It’s clawing from the Void… I—
> 
> I am moving again. Where am I— moving faster. Pulled away. I sense something. Whispers and a strange taste in my mouth. What is this!? Who are y—
> 
> (And here there was a pause so long that Sister Tabatha finally broke the silence) My sister, has your vision ceased? Or if not, what do you observe?
> 
> (And Sister Rosewyn answered thusly) I’ve traveled a long distance. How odd. I— I see a man, Serkonan born. He’s wearing a skull-shaped mask. He watches a ship disappear into the distance as he pilots his dinghy to shore. He turns his eyes… to the south.
> 
> And thus ended the session.
> 
>  
> 
> Truly and in complete detail,
> 
> Sister Allison

 

Emily’s blood turned to ice in her veins. The first part of the vision made little sense to her, although it was clearly a glimpse of something sinister. But the last statement— the one made by Rosewyn after the long pause— there was no doubt in Emily’s mind about who the oracle was seeing. This was not good.

“Empress?” Khulan asked after she’d been quiet for too long. “I believe the last section was about the Royal Protector. I know it isn’t common knowledge, but your father’s skull mask is very distinctly referenced.”

“I— are you certain that…” Emily struggled to find words. “Were these his last moments then?” she asked, voice trembling with feigned sorrow.

Khulan leaned forward. His face was soft and eyes warm with hope. “That was my first thought as well. But what if…” He ran a hand over his shaved head. “If we are interpreting this last bit correctly— and these things are open to some interpretation— it sounds like he may have escaped the wreckage of his ship on a dinghy.” Khulan pursed his lips. “What became of him after that we don’t know but…”

“Sister Rosewyn said past and future melded together in her vision.” Emily ran the pad of her thumb over the edges of the paper. “Could she have been seeing the more distant past? My father’s duties as spymaster took him to many places over years.”

Byrne raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem to be overly excited at the possibility of your father’s survival, Your Majesty.” His tone was daring. “Or do you doubt the words of Sister Rosewyn?”

“I’m not doubting her words,” she assured them. That would be blasphemy after all. “But these visions are open to interpretation, as you said.” Emily sighed heavily and concentrated on forming tears at the corners of her eyes. “I searched for so long. Every report, every briefing I opened, I held my breath and wished that—” She choked back a feigned sob. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up only to have them dashed again.”

Khulan rested a comforting hand on hers. “You’re right, of course.” Byrne balked and Khulan silenced him with a harsh glance. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. The visions of our sisters have always been open to interpretation and Rosewyn’s vision about the man in the skull mask was an outlier from the others. You said so yourself, Byrne.” 

Byrne scowled but nodded his head in acceptance. “Of course, High Overseer.”

Emily forced a weak smile. “I appreciate this.” She gestured to the missive. “That you thought of him— of me— it’s very kind. And I’ll look into the Sister’s words. I’ll order a search for small craft along the shoreline of Baleton. Perhaps the previous search parties missed something.” She lowered her eyes. “But I won’t get my hopes up.” She took a calming breath and added, “As for the rest of the missive… the disturbing visions of heresy…”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” Khulan assured her.

Emily scoffed. “Nothing to worry about? It sounds monstrous. And this is happening, or has happened… or will happen… right here in our Empire? It’s horrible!” She made sure to appear convincingly naive for effect.

Byrne puffed his chest and grinned. “These are the kinds of things that the Abbey deal daily, Your Highness. I understand that a lady of your position had been sheltered from the darkness that seeps through from the cracks of our society, but I assure you, we are looking into these visions.”

“He’s right, Lady Emily.” Khulan smiled more sincerely than Byrne. “This is hardly the most disturbing vision one of our sisters has produced for us. And we’re using information from this and other visions to locate the perpetrators of these vile rituals.”

“Well, that’s good then.” Emily consciously focused on keeping her nervous hands still when all they wanted to do was fidget.

They wrapped up the meeting quickly after that and Emily was left to herself, wrestling with a knot in her stomach that wouldn’t ease. At least now she had confirmation that her father did disembark his ship before its scheduled wreck. That much was a relief. But what worried her most was the details in the first part of the vision. They could be unrelated, but what if Corvo had stumbled into something in Karnaca that was more than he could handle on his own?

He’d gone south to investigate a political conspiracy being instigated by the Duke. What if what Corvo found instead was a coven of witches and wealthy nobles practicing dark rituals? He was the best warrior in all the isles but Corvo was only one man.

How could he possibly take on a threat from the Void itself?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains canon-typical violence, descriptions of gore, passing reference to a miscarriage.

Corvo crouched in the filthy alley in the western end of the Mining District and felt around for the loose brick behind the last dumpster. One of Stilton’s couriers left a message in this location every other day with relevant news. He pulled the note from its sealed container and sighed. It was about the missing doctor. Again. 

“What’s it say?” Cecelia whispered.

Corvo made sure to have Cecelia with him when he went to pick up dead drops from Stilton or meet his spies now. This game of cat and rat was getting more dangerous by the day and he didn’t want to risk his people’s lives any more than he already was. So, making sure no one saw him picking up their messages was essential.

“It’s about Dr. Hypatia.” He handed the note to Cecelia.

Apparently the Miner’s Family Committee was in an uproar. The sudden hiatus of Dr. Hypatia several months ago had all of them worried. The free care she provided to miners and her research into the ailments unique to their profession were essential. Stilton was doing all he could to arrange for other doctors to tend for his sick and injured people. However, the cost was exorbitant and the quality of treatment was substandard. Stilton’s message begged Corvo to look into Hypatia’s whereabouts and included the contact information for the head of the committee, Lucia Pastor.

Corvo sighed and scratched at his beard in the mid-day heat. A lot of things had changed since he’d saved Stilton from his original fate, but the good doctor’s hiatus from charity work remained the same in this timeline. He hadn’t found anything to connect Hypatia to the conspiracy. No money. No political favors. By all accounts she really was holed up in her lab.

Could she be connected to the plot somehow? And if so, what would Delilah need with a doctor?

Corvo scribbled a reply for Stilton on the parchment and sealed it back inside its hiding spot.

* * *

He met Lucia Pastor the next day in the Cyria Gardens neighborhood. She was sitting alone on a bench near one of the few parks Karnaca had left, watching neighborhood children play a game with a wistful smile. Corvo waited at the edge of the block and observed the other park goers to make sure no one had followed her.

Wealthy citizens had their own private gardens for recreation. The common people had a handful of poorly-maintained parks scattered around the city. Funding for their upkeep had been cut by Luca Abele as soon as his father was dead. Now the parks were in whatever condition the locals could afford. It wasn’t uncommon to see people coming by on their days off to pick up trash or prune shrubs. But it wasn’t enough to make them as beautiful as they once were. Still, these peaceful public spaces were more than some cities could boast and Karancans took pride in them.

Finally, Corvo was satisfied it wasn’t a trap. He nodded to Cecelia to wait for him, and he approached Lucia Pastor alone.

She tensed when he sat down next to her, but she held her ground.

“Sun’s bright today,” he began. “Burns the eyes if you’re not ready for it.”

Pastor’s shoulders relaxed and she replied, “Like a light at the end of a mining shaft.” She sighed heavy with relief. “Thank you for coming. Mr. Stilton said you were a man who could get things done, Mister…”

“Beechworth,” Corvo said, extending his hand. “But you can call me Samuel. Mr. Stilton said you had a friend who’s gone missing?”

“Not missing. Not exactly.” She clenched her hands together in her lap. “I don’t know if you’re familiar with Dr. Hypatia, the alchemist? She recently abandoned all of her charity work in favor of being holed up at Addermire Institute to ‘conduct important research.’ But that’s not true. Even when she’s elbow-deep in research she always makes time for the miners. She wouldn’t just abandon them. She’s being kept there against her will.”

“Do you have proof?”

She nodded vigorously and passed him a note. “We write to each other. When the letters stopped coming I started asking questions. Too many questions maybe.” Her hands were shaking. “Finally, she wrote me back. It looks like her handwriting but it doesn’t sound like her. The tone is off and there are some spelling errors she’d never make. Either someone else wrote this or…”

Corvo scanned the note quickly. The letter read: 

> Dear Lucia,
> 
> I am terribly sorry to ave taken so long in responding to your inquiries. Things at the Institut are very busy. My research into the blood fies’ reproductive cycle take up most of my time now. As much as I would like to return to my work with the miners, there are more imortant things to focus on at the moment.
> 
> I hope you understand, but the blood fly epidemic affects all of Serkonos and must take priority for now. I will return to my work with the Miners’ Family Committee later in the year when time permits.
> 
> Respectfully,
> 
> A.M. Hypatia, M.D.

“You and the doctor are close?”

Pastor nodded. “Dr. Hypatia saved my life.” She took a deep breath as her eyes grew misty. “My husband was killed in a mine collapse last year. I searched the debris for hours, even after everyone told me to give up. But in the process I— I overexerted myself, I suppose.” Her hand fell gently to her lower abdomen and she sighed. “I lost our baby the next night.”

“I’m sorry,” Corvo whispered.

Pastor sniffled a thank you. “If it hadn’t been for the doctor, I don’t think I’d be alive today. I blamed myself for losing the baby and I wanted to—” She gulped. “I just wanted my husband back so badly I didn’t listen to my own body, and I lost the last piece of him I had. Dr. Hypatia helped me recover, and not just physically.”

“I hear she’s a good woman,” Corvo offered.

“No. She’s better than good. She sat by me every night and held me while I cried. She told me it wasn’t my fault so many times I actually started to believe her.” Tears flowed down her face and Pastor didn’t move to wipe them away. “Something has happened to her and if I have to storm that island by myself I will. She’s one of the only people I have left, Mr. Beechworth.”

Corvo re-read the note. The letter was unusually formal given the relationship Lucia Pastor had just described. The handwriting was neat, so it wasn’t written in a hurry. And the spelling errors were unusual for someone so highly educated. There were four glaring typos: “ave” instead of have, left the ‘e’ off on Institute, blood fies instead of blood flies and left the ‘p’ out of important.

His eyes widened. The 4 missing letters spelled out H-E-L-P.

That strange woman— Alex, they’d called her— something was wrong with her face for her to have it bandaged so heavily. And her mind was obviously unhinged. Corvo had already checked all local hospitals for patients matching her description and found nothing. But what if the good doctor had been sequestered to care for her instead? He kicked himself for not investigating Hypatia’s disappearance sooner.

It took Corvo a moment to speak around the lump in his throat. “I think you’re right. Something’s happened to the doctor.” He turned to look Lucia Pastor in the eyes. “And I’m going to find her. I promise.”

* * *

The carriage station that connected Addermire Institute to the mainland was under heavy guard. That had seemed highly suspicious to Corvo before but now he could slap himself for not seeing how clearly connected this all was to the conspiracy. 

Whoever “Alex” was, she wasn’t receiving any money from the Duke that he’d been able to trace, so he hadn’t suspected the involvement of a 4th member of the conspiracy until he witnessed the seance. He wasn’t even sure what her role was in all of this. During the ritual she’d done little more than ramble, laugh hysterically, and make lewd gestures. But if his hunch was correct, she was being treated by Dr. Hypatia under guard at the recently shuttered Addermire Institute.

“Corvo, are you sure you don’t want me to come along?” Cecelia leaned against the exposed brick wall in an alley across from the guarded station.

“I can sneak past them just fine.” He smiled and tucked his pant legs into his boots as he got ready to scale the nearby building.

“I don’t doubt that, but what about once you’re over there?”

It was a tempting proposal, and Corvo was certain he could use Cecelia’s talents. The number of guards on the island wouldn’t be easy to navigate around. But her special skill was better utilized for his escape, rather than the initial infiltration.

“I’ll be fine. You get back to the Dreadful Wale. Meagan is watching the back exit with a spyglass. If I’m not able to disarm the Watch Tower, that’s where you come in.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “If any alarms go off, the first thing they’ll do it shut down the carriage rails. Then the only way off that island will be by boat and Meagan won’t stand a chance with a Watch Tower firing missiles at the skiff.”

Cecelia sighed. “Less likely to set off an alarm in the first place if I’m with you.”

He rechecked the supplies in his bag. “Plan A is not to set off any alarms and take the carriage back. Plan B is to disable the Watch Tower and the perimeter guards for the skiff. But if those aren’t possible…”

“I’m plan C. I get it.” She shoved off of the wall and tipped her hat. “Good luck, Corvo.”

Corvo hoped he was making the right decision. But as useful as Cecelia could be, he wanted her out of harm’s way if things got rough.

He transversed space and made his way to the roof of the apartment building where Dr. Hypatia officially resided. According to people on the street she hadn’t been back to her apartment in months. He dropped gracefully down to the balcony and jimmied the lock open. The spacious living area was dusty and all of the houseplants were withered and brown.

She hadn’t arranged for someone to take care of plants. That wasn’t a good sign. Everything he saw in this apartment— from the way the bed was neatly made to the carefully maintained laboratory— spoke of a woman who was mindful and thorough. It was unlikely that she’d fail to make arrangements to have her place cleaned in her absence.

The last time Dr. Hypatia left this apartment, she thought she’d be coming back.

Finding no evidence of foul play, Corvo left the way he came. The rooftops of the carriage station were being patrolled by senior members of the Grand Guard and slipping by them wasn’t easy. He had to slow time and choke out one unfortunate guard who nearly spotted him. The two men below who were guarding the carriage itself had to be sedated from afar. But finally, the way was clear.

Corvo stood at the edge of the carriage station and out towards the isolated facade of Addermire Institute. He remembered when it used to be a solarium for aristocrats. Now it was, ostensibly, a research center for infectious diseases— a much more useful pursuit. But no one other than the Grand Guard and a skeleton staff came or went from there nowadays. Dr. Hypatia worked on “important research” and was not to be disturbed, but her hidden message to Lucia pastor said otherwise.

He climbed into the carriage and pulled the lever. His heart was in his throat as he passed over the water of the harbor. Its surface was growing choppy with a coming storm. His hands fell to his sides as he drew nearer to the rocky island, gripping a sword and pistol respectively. But when the carriage parked at the loading area, there wasn’t a single guard in sight.

Abandoned suitcases and shattered crates lay scattered about, as if the former residents and staff had been in such a hurry to leave they discarded their own belongings with little care. Or perhaps they hadn’t left voluntarily. Addermire Institute looked deserted from the outside save for a few lights and the crackle of an announcement from inside.

_“Any Grand Guard personnel who miss their carriage to the mainland will be required to stay on for an additional shift. Without pay.”_

The wind picked up and cut through his clothes with a chill. A state-of-the-art research facility, this was not.

Progress was frustratingly slow with guards on tight rotation in the lobby and entryways. Corvo found himself wishing he had allowed Cecelia to accompany him. The few staff who cooked and cleaned for the large number of Grand Guard on the island were all polite smiles and stilted bows, masking their fear.

Corvo transversed to the upper level to avoid the wall of light in the lobby.

The next hour was full of tense waiting and silent scrambling to avoid the gazes of the men and women assigned to this desolate posting. More than half of the facility was boarded up or blocked off— plenty of places to hide a prisoner— and he snuck into as many as he could. Finally, hiding in the elevator shaft above the 4th floor, eavesdropping turned out to be a better use of his time.

“Sir, I don’t understand how she got out.”

A frustrated young sergeant stood in front a superior officer who looked to be in charge of the facility judging by his uniform and well-appointed desk.

“She didn’t,” he replied cooly. “Dr. Hypatia never leaves Addermire Institute.”

The sergeant clearly didn’t understand the gist of what he was being told. “No, but sir, the other day I found her wandering out by the loading zone. I don’t know how she got out there, much less by my patrol. Then again a few weeks ago she was found outside the lobby when—”

“Sergeant!” the superior officer barked. “I’m going to repeat myself, with more meaning this time.” He took a step forward. “Dr. Hypatia doesn’t leave Addermire. Ever. You must be mistaken. She’s been in her laboratory in the research wing all day, every day, ever since the Duke called down the protection order.” His hand fell to the gun at his hip as he met the younger guard’s eyes. “Or do you still think you saw her mysteriously appear some other place?”

The younger guard swallowed thickly and his eyes darted to his superior’s loaded weapon.

The man in charge continued. “That janitor, Hamilton, said something similar didn’t he? He was rambling about Hypatia and acting crazy just before he fell out that little window in his room upstairs.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “This posting gets to some people, though. It must be the isolation. Totally separate from the rest of the city, only having the same tight knit group of people around you, day in and day out…”

Now he got it. “Oh, uh, of course. I think I understand now, sir. I won’t let it, uh… I’ll remember that from now on.”

“Good,” the veteran officer said, relaxing his posture. “You’re a good man, and I think you’ll do well here— now that you understand how things work with Dr. Hypatia, that is.”

So, Hypatia was a prisoner here and had made a few escape attempts it seemed. He’d heard no mention of the mysterious “Alex” from the guards so far. Was she being kept here in secret? He waited until the guards resumed their patrols before climbing out of the elevator shaft and making his way upstairs to the janitor’s old room. If Hamilton saw something that got him killed, it could be useful.

The audio recordings and journal entries he found in Hamilton’s quarters did have the hallmarks of a man gone insane, but Corvo doubted the isolation is what drove him to such a state. This was someone who knew what he saw, but couldn’t come to terms with it. And what he described was walking in on a gruesome scene, perpetrated by a hooded figure.

> This time I'm sure, I saw it. I saw, well, I don't know what or who it was, but there was someone, some hooded creature. Dragging some bloody thing along the corridor. I'm not sure whether its prey was another dog or one of the guards. Not sure which I'd prefer. Those bastards have been mocking me, saying that I lost it and that Dr. Hypatia should lock me up. Captain Ramirez said it's all in my head and that I'd better stop spreading rumors
> 
> Dr. Hypatia didn't say much when I first mentioned the half-devoured dog, found in Recuperation. Is she protecting someone? Dr. Vasco looks most suspicious to me. He hasn't even left Recuperation for weeks now. And last time I saw him, he was drawing some rotten blood from the body of the guard who got stung to death by blood flies. I'm no doctor, but I know that this is not part of the Addermire Solution recipe that Dr. Hypatia invented.
> 
> Anyway, if nobody will listen to me, I'll have to track the monster down myself. I'll set up some traps and keep watch every night, until I find out what is going on here.

Trapped on the island with a monster and dozens of guards who were keeping some dark secret, Hamilton the janitor had taken to arming himself. Corvo gave the traps and weapons he’d partially constructed an impressed once-over. There were the makings of some rudimentary stun mines, shrapnel mines, trip wire traps and some nasty-looking barbed hooks. Seems the man was preparing to take matters into his own hands before he “fell” from his window.

Corvo needed to find Dr. Hypatia. If she was being forced to stay here and take care of Alex, they could both be useful sources of information against the conspiracy.

He found the key to the Recuperation Wing on the senior officer patrolling near Hypatia’s office. He had half a mind to keep squeezing the man’s neck long after he’d lost consciousness. But Corvo might need him alive for information later, so he he tied him up inside he office and locked it.

The Recuperation Wing was abandoned. Cots were overturned, there was broken glass on the floor, and there was no sign of any patients having been here recently. The telltale buzzing of a blood-fly nest could be heard coming from inside one of the rooms where a resting patient should have been. It was locked up, thankfully, but through the glass door Corvo could see a bloated body inside. But it wasn’t a female body, so presumably Hypatia and Alex were further in. He made his way towards the signs for the lab.

The laboratory where Dr. Hypatia was working was just as ruined as the rest of the facility. The bookshelves on the upper level had been overturned and their contents scattered as if someone threw a tantrum. Corvo wasn’t an expert in any scientific fields, but he knew that advanced research laboratories were supposed to be clean and well-maintained. The operating theater beneath him stunk of stale waste and dried blood. Something had happened here.

Then he saw her. A woman in her 40s, presumably Dr. Hypatia, was hunched over a lab counter, wrist-deep in… something. He hadn’t been seen yet and wanted to know about the situation before he spoke to her.

Corvo summoned the Heart.

_“Dissection is her favorite. Her fingertips linger in the blood and the sticky warmth on her skin makes her feel alive.”_

Corvo felt the blood drain from his face. He pressed for more information.

_“She scrubs her hands raw after every autopsy. The feeling of viscera and fluids is too exciting a thing to let linger.”_

Crouched out of sight behind the railings on the upper floor, he leaned forward for a better look at the good doctor. She was mumbling to herself, working with her bare hands rather than in gloves. She was totally absorbed in her work, dissecting a blood fly. Perhaps the infestation in the previous rooms was there for research purposes, though he doubted it. Corvo looked around the sparse amenities of the lab. The blood fly might have been the only thing for her to occupy herself with.

He tried once again with the Heart.

_“Helping the miners, the poor, and the forgotten people of this city, gives her relief. Altruism fills the empty spaces inside her. She likes helping people. When they call her a savior she tries to believe them.”_

He adjusted his vision and peered around the floor below. She was alone in the operating theater. It was a risk, but he blinked down to the floor and approached her slowly from behind.

“Doctor?” he asked softly, so as not to startle her. She startled anyway.

“Who… who are you?” Her eyes were heavy and her movement sluggish. “Are you one of my patients?” She reached for his mask but he gently guided her hand away.

“No, doctor.” Corvo looked at her carefully. Was she drugged? “I’m here because I got your letter. You said you needed help.” He pulled the paper from his vest pocket and handed it over.

“My letter?” Her heavy-lidded eyes were confused as she took the paper and read it over. “I don’t— this is my handwriting. But I don’t remember writing this. How odd. I— I’m sorry.” Her gaze shifted in and out of focus. “I’ve been having trouble remembering things lately. The Duke has me working on a project and I must finish if I’m to get back to my patients. I must have forgotten…” She snapped to attention and looked around the room. “Did you hear that?”

Corvo shook his head. “Hear what?”

“I thought I heard someone call my name.” She ran a hand— unsterilized— across her cheek. “I hope I’m not coming down with something. If I ever want to finish this research I really should…” She trailed off and turned back to the workbench as if Corvo wasn’t even there.

_“The wine makes her light-headed. Don’t let her drink it again!”_ the Heart cried from his palm.

His limbs went cold with dread. Dr. Hypatia wasn’t well. And if she didn’t write the coded message calling for help, who did?

Corvo scanned the surrounding rooms. There was a figure in the back. He couldn’t make out much, but whoever it was, they were laying on a small cot and appeared to be in pain.

Corvo backed away from Hypatia slowly but even then she seemed not to notice. He drew his sword as he crept around to the back storage area where he could see the outline of the mysterious person. If this was the woman called Alex, he would have the element of surprise in confronting her.

Rounding the corner slowly, he loaded a sleep dart into his crossbow. A precaution in case Alex gave him any trouble. But when he met the face of the incapacitated figure, Corvo lowered both his arms in shock.

The injured person did have their face bandaged extensively, but this wasn’t Alex. This was an older man from the looks of his frail body. Corvo kneeled by his side.

“Hey,” he whispered, keeping one eye on the window where he could see Hypatia still hunched over her dissection.

The man jerked violently, bringing an arm up to shield himself as he whimpered. But his good eye widened when he saw Corvo.

“You… you’re not…” he moaned. His hands reached out— surprisingly strong— and gripped Corvo by the front of his shirt. “Help her!” he hissed. “It took me months to figure it out, but I finally had the antidote ready before… I just need to administer—” He struggled to breathe. He lifted a shaky hand and pointed to the high shelf in the corner. “I had it completed and hid it. I was going to inject her when her guard was down but I must have been acting suspicious, and she…”

“Calm down,” Corvo whispered. “Who did this to you?”

He began to shake. “She isn’t in control. She doesn’t realize what’s happening to her. When Alex takes over she has no memory of it. And when she is awake she’s so confused…”

“Alex.” Corvo leaned forward. “She’s here?”

“She needs the antidote. If she gets injected, it will block the effects of the flawed serum.”

Corvo was lost. “What are you talking about?”

“If Hypatia gets the antidote I crafted she can regain control of herself.” He coughed and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

In an instant, the pieces of the puzzle slid into place. Corvo slowly turned to the diploma displayed on the wall that read: Doctor of Medicine- Alexandria Hypatia.

Alex.

He whipped his head around to the viewing window and stared in horror at the empty operating theater. Hypatia was gone.

The glass window in front of him exploded and Corvo was thrown backwards into the wall. He gathered himself, one hand already on the hilt of his sword, and faced his attacker. The woman was Dr. Hypatia, only… it wasn’t.

Her eyes almost glowed with an iridescence and her features were twisted in an expression of pure sadistic joy. The injured man was cut to pieces from the shrapnel of broken glass. There was a thick shard lodged in his femoral artery and he lay twitching on his cot as he bled out.

“My poor dear, Dr. Vasco,” she growled, crouched above him. “I wanted to have more time with you. We could have had so much fun. But it wasn’t meant to be.” She stepped over him as casually as one steps over a puddle and stalked towards Corvo. “But you look strong. Fit.” She chuckled low in her throat. “You’ll last a very long time, won’t you?”

Corvo leaped to his feet and prepared for a fight.

“I’m glad you got my letter. We’ve had so much trouble finding you! Lucia Pastor is a dear. I knew she’d reach out to Stilton. And Stilton reached out to you. Just as Delilah suspected he would.”

Alex leaped at him with inhuman speed but Corvo was nearly as fast. Her fingers raked his arm but he twisted away and fired a sleep dart into her neck. She faltered on her feet, head swaying to and fro but she didn’t go down. He fired another. Still nothing. Alex snarled and came at him again.

“I’m not supposed to kill you,” she hissed, and lashed out again. “Just keep you here until Delilah is ready to reveal the Masked Felon’s crimes to a stunned Dunwall! But I can have plenty of fun and still keep you alive.”

Corvo gritted his teeth against the impulse to slash out with his sword. Alex swung wildly like an animal. She was strong and fast but not skilled. He could end this. He could end her. But that would also end Hypatia and, if the late Dr. Vasco was to be believed, she was still inside the monster somewhere. There was a cure.

Corvo whipped out with a kick and felt the heel of his boots connect with Alex’s chin. That would have taken down most people, but she only stumbled back for a moment before coming at him again. He dodged her grasp, and retreated towards the back corner of the office, leading her where he needed her to go. Injecting her while she was thrashing around wouldn’t be easy, so Corvo summoned his strength and flexed his left hand.

He felt the power of the Void flow through him and he met Alex’s glowing eyes. His vision sharpened and he braced for the familiar tug of possession. Corvo’s spirit was pulled towards his target. Having Alex inject herself with the cure would be fitting. But just before his mind took root in hers, Corvo’s awareness snapped back into place and he was shoved back against the wall.

“Three’s a crowd, Royal Protector,” she snarled.

He couldn’t possess her! An effect of the serum Vasco mentioned? Corvo raised his arm and brought his elbow down upon the top of her head with us much force as he could muster. He hated to do it, but it bought him a few precious seconds. Stunned, Alex stumbled backwards and Corvo reached to the shelf above his head.

He felt it! The syringe Vasco had pointed to. He fumbled for it quickly and lunged at Alex just as she recovered. Corvo jabbed the needle into her shoulder and depressed the plunger.

“No!” she screamed. “I won’t go back! I won’t sleep again! Not again!”

She swiped at him fiercely, but with each passing second Corvo could see the serum taking effect. Her blows grew weaker, her screams softer, and eventually Alex fell to her knees.

She glared up at him from the floor. “You’d better hope she stays strong. Or I’ll be back.”

Her eyes faded back to normal and the woman staring up at him was no longer Alex.

“Doctor. Are you…” Corvo hesitated to approach.

“What?” The doctor’s awareness returned slowly. “I was just… how did I get back here?” She looked around and her eyes went wide. “Vasco!” she cried. “No! No, no, no…” She placed her trembling fingers on his neck, but found no pulse. “What happened to him?” she whispered, staring in shock at the blood on her hands. Her expression was haunted and there was a flash of recognition in her eyes. “Who would do such a thing?”

“It isn’t safe for you here. We have to go,” he said softly. He reached for her and she jerked away.

“Who are you? What’s going on?” She stared into the operating theater.

Corvo removed his mask and kneeled down next to her. “I’m Corvo Attano.”

“The… Royal Protector?”

He nodded. “I’m here to protect you. You’ve been…” How to phrase this? “Poisoned, for lack of a better word.”

Hypatia’s lower lip trembled. “What did I do?” she whispered.

Corvo laid a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out later. Once you’re somewhere safe.”

He left Hypatia in the small office on the other side of the theater, away from the broken glass and Vasco’s corpse. It was disturbingly bare except for a few bottles of Fig Wine— a gift from Duke Abele according to the note on the gift basket.

Corvo hoped to find at least some evidence of the conspiracy, since Alex had been working for them for months now. But the desk was empty of papers and the walls were bare.

“I think…” Hypatia murmured, half to herself. “I think they cleaned it out. I… wrote a letter. Or she did. And then, there was the feeling that someone was coming. So she destroyed papers and… I’m sorry I don’t remember what the paper said. It’s so blurry.”

Corvo hoped her memories would return in time. They needed intelligence. But the doctor was safe for now and the conspiracy was down a member.

In the end, Plan A, the carriage, was too risky. He snuck past a lot of guards on his own to reach Hypatia but taking her with him on that route was too dangerous. Fortunately, Plan C wasn’t necessary. Corvo was able to get rid of the perimeter guards and disable the Watch Tower himself. Once they were down, he fetched Hypatia and escorted her outside. She was still shaking and weak, but able to walk under her own power.

Meagan was waiting in the skiff at the rear dock by the time he got back outside with her.

“You found her,” Meagan said, relieved. “And what about the conspiracy member? Alex?”

Corvo gave her a meaningful glance and shifted his gaze to Hypatia. “I’ll explain on the boat. But it— it wasn’t her fault.” They settled onto the passenger bench and Corvo squeezed one of Hypatia’s trembling hands.

He whispered, “It wasn’t your fault.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so... in canon there’s a diary entry written by Dr. Vasco (the one you find near the safe in his office) and he writes about when he and Hypatia first tried the flawed serum together. This was, supposedly, the origin story of Grim Alex.
> 
> BUT… that entry is dated High Cold, 1850. And we saw Grim Alex at the seance in Rain, 1849.
> 
> It’s probably just a timeline goof on Arkane’s part, but it led me down the hypothetical road that Alex has always been a part of Hypatia, not simply effect of the serum. I started entertaining dark!Hypatia head canons and we're gonna explore the dark side of altruistic people. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	15. Chapter 15

Corvo balanced the small tray of pastries and tea on one hand while he unbolted the door to Hypatia’s room. For their safety and hers, she was being kept in the room where Cecelia recovered from exhaustion their first night on the Dreadful Wale. Corvo didn’t want to take chances with their safety if Vasco’s cure wasn’t permanent. “Alex” had given him quite the fight. If she wasn’t truly gone…

He slid inside and then listened as Cecelia bolted the door behind him. Hypatia rose from her cot and joined him at the small table in the corner. He poured tea as she collected herself.

“Did you send my letter?” Hypatia asked as she stirred a cube of sugar into her cup.

Corvo nodded. “I did. Lucia Pastor knows you’re safe and in hiding. She wanted more details, but…”

“I understand. It’s safest for everyone this way.”

Hypatia showed no signs of volatility, but Corvo summoned the Heart to be sure.

_“She wasn’t in control but she still blames herself. She vows to never let Alex loose again.”_

It had been three days since he rescued Hypatia from Addermire and today was the first day she’d been awake for more than a few hours. Corvo hated to push her, but they needed information.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked.

“Better.” Hypatia’s eyes were swollen from crying. “Clearer. I remember… more.”

He passed her the cream. “Anything you’d like to share?”

Hypatia hiccuped around a sound that was half sob-half laugh. “I don’t want to share any of it. I want to forget it all. But that won’t help anyone. And I want to help.”

Corvo smiled softly. “Start from the beginning.”

Her hands shook as she took a few sweets from the tray and placed them on her plate. “Dr. Vasco and I were researching remedies for the miners late last year. One of my formulas looked promising as a physical recovery aid but I had concerns about possible side effects on the mind. So we waited until the Fugue Feast to test it on ourselves.” She shuddered violently. “It strengthened the body beyond our best hopes but it also stripped away our inhibitions. Completely.” She sniffled. “Vasco’s behavior was extreme, but nothing out of the ordinary for the Feast. But I… I did things that night that…” She choked back tears.

_“When she was a child, she dissected a cat she’d found. Her parents declared she was destined for medicine. She never told them she’d been the one to kill the poor creature.”_

Hypatia continued. “So we destroyed the batch and only kept a few samples locked away for future research. Then the ‘protection order’ came down from the Duke and we were forced to stay at Addermire.” Her lip curled. “Abele sent bottles of Fig Wine from time to time as an apology for the ‘necessary precautions.’” She chuckled darkly. “Fig Wine is my favorite and I had a glass before bed every evening. That must have kept the serum in my system at low enough levels that I could still maintain my awareness but… enough that Alex could take over without me realizing.”

_“The serum tore down the walls she spent a lifetime building. Decades of routing those urges into autopsies and dissections where they would hurt no one and help her research, all dissolved by a few drops of serum slipped into her wine by Duke Abele.”_

Interesting. Corvo focused the Heart again.

_“How could the Duke have known about her failed serum? Delilah must have seen her through the Void and whispered it to him. She knew things about Alex that Hypatia had never told a living soul.”_

“The Duke didn’t come to the Institute himself. I’d receive an audiograph with the wine. I’d play it and…” Hypatia pursed her lips “There’d be a name. A location. And then… things went foggy. I always came back to myself later, usually back at Addermire. I thought I’d contracted something.” She pushed the food around on her plate but didn’t eat. “I feel like I’m waking up from a nightmare.”

Her face was etched with disgust and regret. Corvo watched as Hypatia fought tears.

_“She feels so… violated. Hypatia will do everything in her power to take down their conspiracy.”_

“I don’t know what they’re going to do next. They only used me when they needed something violent.”

“Weatherby,” Corvo supplied. They’d used Hypatia— no, Alex— to make it look like Emily ordered his murder.

Hypatia nodded. “And Brockburn.”

“Correy Brockburn?” He slumped in his chair. “He fell off of his yacht and drowned a week after I got here. It was ruled an accident by the…” Corvo’s face fell. “By the Grand Guard.”

“I was on the boat. I had a knife and wire and…” She gulped. “Plans. But he saw me and startled. He fell overboard and drowned.”

Brockburn was a member of the Regenters, nobles loyal to the late Lord Regent who supported overthrowing the monarchy. But, ever since the failed attempt on Emily’s life six years ago, they’d mostly been spinning their wheels and trying to grow their ranks without much success. Norman kept tabs on them for Corvo but they hadn’t done anything more than bickering amongst themselves in years.

“Do you know who else was going to be targeted to implicate Emily?”

“No. I’m sorry. They only told me— her— when it was time.”

“That’s alright, doctor. You’ve been more than helpful.”

Corvo smiled in a way he hoped was reassuring and left her to rest. He knocked on the door to be let out. When he closed the door behind him, Corvo didn’t bolt the hatch. After listening to the Heart, he wasn’t afraid of Alex making another appearance.

The others were gathered in the cargo hold. Meagan and Sokolov raised their heads in unison, expressions hopeful. But Corvo shook his head.

“She doesn’t know anything about their larger plans.”

Meagan narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure? She could be lying.”

“She could be but I don’t think she is.” He copied her posture and said, “And I thought all of the ‘spymaster stuff’ was going to be left up to me.”

Meagan raised her hands in a gesture of peace. “So I promised.”

“My biggest concern right now is figuring out what their next moves are. They could arrange assassinations without Alex, but something tells me that the killing was only a small part of their plan.”

Sokolov hummed in thought and stroked his beard. “The purpose of the murders was probably to help them flush out allies. Let the papers speculate and then they listen to see who’s ready to believe the worst about Emily. They find out which nobles would be amenable to a change of regime and approach them privately.”

“Which means they may have already made a few new friends,” said Meagan.

Corvo looked at the large board where they compiled their information. “They’ve only officially accused the Masked Felon of one murder. Would that be enough?”

“They probably wanted a few more bodies before they dug their claws into the Dunwall nobility.” Sokolov got up slowly. His joints could be heard creaking even over the noise of the boat. “Still, Weatherby had friends back in the capital. It’ll get enough people talking that they can find a few supporters.”

Corvo looked at the board. “Delilah makes the plans. The Duke provides the funds. Hypatia was the… muscle. So how are Jindosh and Ashworth contributing?”

Sokolov chuckled to himself. “Well it’s a fair bet that Kirin isn’t doing any hobnobbing with nobles and recruiting them to the cause. He’s notorious for refusing to make nice with people. His purpose is material— making weapons, most likely.”

“But Ashworth has ties to the nobility in Dunwall,” Meagan added. She tapped the silvergraph image of Breanna Ashworth posted on the board. “She came from a noble family before she drained her father’s bank account and ran off to avoid marrying an old man.”

Corvo crossed his arms and considered that. “I remember. It was quite the scandal at court. She burned a lot of bridges.”

“True. But with the silver from the Duke, she’s got more than enough resources to reach out and rebuild,” Meagan added.

Not having anyone inside the Grand Palace was a huge blow. Corvo could have had proof of treason in hand and been back in Dunwall by now if there’d been some way to plant a servant there. Which reminded him…

“My spy inside the clockwork mansion hasn’t reported anything in two days. I’m starting to worry.”

One day without word wasn’t unusual but Jana had never missed her drop twice before. Alma was worried. Normally, he’d let it go another day and see if she made her drop tomorrow. But the timing, so soon after he took Hypatia…

Meagan frowned. “Maybe they’re being watched and it wasn’t safe to make a drop?”

“That’s what I’m hoping. But if something has happened…” Corvo felt dread dig its icy fingers into his stomach. This could be another trap. If Jana had been discovered, they could be luring him to Jindosh’s manor to find her like they lured him to Addermire.

Sokolov cleared his throat. “I knew Kirin when he attended the Academy. Back before the unpleasantness that got him expelled, that is. I could pay my old student a visit and take a peek around.”

“Too obvious,” Meagan scolded. “There’s no way he’d believe you stopped by for a social call. Especially not if the worst has happened and he just caught a spy among his staff.”

“I’ll go.” Cecelia sat tall in her seat, trying to appear confident as all eyes in the room turned to her. “I can pop in, look around, and report back without anyone noticing. If her cover is still in tact, I won’t ruin anything.”

Corvo appreciated the help, and it wasn’t a bad idea. But it was still dangerous. “Cecelia, I know you have a certain set of skills, but—”

“But nothing,” Cecelia said, hands on her hips. “You need to know if something happened without giving away who you are. Tell me there’s a better option and I’ll hear it.”

“It’s dangerous in there.” Corvo pointed to the hand-drawn map on the board. “Even with as much information as we have about the mansion, that house is a damned maze. The floors and rooms can shift with the flip of a switch.” He glowered and tried his best to look discouraging. “It’s not unusual for servants to get trapped in rooms that have an exit one minute and no way out the next.”

“So it’s not for someone who’s a in a rush.” Cecelia studied the rudimentary map of the inner walls that Jana had drawn up, then snatched it from the board and folded it into her breast pocket. “I followed you for weeks without you knowing, Corvo. I ate hardtack in the hold of a filthy cargo ship for a month without making a peep. I’ll go in quietly and skulk around in the walls. If there’s any information on Jana or on what Jindosh is doing, I’ll find it.”

She turned to Corvo and held her head high. “If anyone can get in and out of that mansion without being spotted, it’s me. And you know it.”

* * *

Corvo confirmed with Jana’s neighbors that she hadn’t been back to her apartment in days. Not a good sign.

So just after the sun set that day, Corvo and Cecelia made their way through the neighborhood of Aventa together. It was one of the higher class areas of the city and they did their best to stay inconspicuous. Cecelia didn’t want to start using her ability until she absolutely had to, just in case she needed to save her strength for whatever awaited her inside Jindosh’s mansion. So they focused on trying to look like a pair of people on their way to some destination. No wandering or sight-seeing, much as Corvo would have liked to take in the sights.

The smells from the fishery wafted up from the bay and the neighborhood of Lower Aventa seemed to do everything in its power to compensate. Fresh baked bread sat cooling in windows, there were flower stalls lining the streets, and a food cart for roasting kabobs. They had a large fan set up which made the mouth-watering smells drift along the entire street, attracting customers.

Once they reached the upper levels of Aventa, where the nobles lived, the smell of fish and food and flowers dissipated. The rich didn’t like their homes and clothes to smell like much of anything aside from delicately crafted perfumes. The wealthy also liked peace of mind, thus the significant number of patrolling guards.

They were sure to be asked about their destination. It was only private homes up ahead. And the carriage station beyond this point had only one final stop: the Clockwork Mansion.

Corvo and Cecelia crouched together behind a billboard and conferred.

“The noise from the carriage gate is going to alert the guards. How do we wanna do this?” she asked. “You could distract them while I get to the manor in the carriage?”

But Corvo didn’t like the idea of leading the guards on a chase while Cecelia dealt with an unknown situation on her own. And there was no guarantee the guards wouldn’t split up and chase the carriage as well.

Corvo poked his head out and stared at the electrified rails that ended at the notorious manor on the top of the hill. They were held aloft by pillars placed on top of man-made islands of stone. It was the only way for the railings to remain stable over such a long distance. It also gave Corvo an idea. 

“It’s best that they never know anyone’s gotten past them at all.” He pointed out to the railings. “If we make our way to the very back end of the neighborhood, we can climb down and move along underneath the railings themselves.”

Cecelia balked. “Climb down?”

“I’ll carry you. Don’t worry.” He smirked. “I carried you along the rooftops halfway across Campo Seta. I can manage scaling down a few ledges.”

She did have to use her ability briefly as they wound their way through a Grand Guard station house and out the back of the building to avoid a Wall of Light. But after that, the trip down was relatively smooth. Corvo grabbed her around the waist and transversed from one precarious ledge to another until they were safely on solid ground beneath the electrified rails. Without his powers, making the jump from one set of protruding iron bars to the next would have been impossible. But they made their way unseen towards the goal.

He kept glancing back to see if one of the patrolling guards would look out into the distance and down underneath the rails. But no one did. Finally, they stood at their destination.

Cecelia clung so tightly to him it took her a moment to dislodge her iron grip from around his neck.

“That was awful,” she whispered, as if there were anyone to hear. The outside of the manor was abandoned as they crouched in the shadows of the support pillar below the carriage station. “I’d rather be unconscious next time.”

He smiled fondly. “I’ll be right outside if you need me. You have—”

“Until sunrise. I know.”

“Be careful, Cecelia. Take your time. Find Jana and if the worst has happened…” He sighed. “Then find whatever it is Jindosh didn’t want her to tell us about.”

* * *

The manor’s entry foyer was smaller than Cecelia expected. Most people with houses like this put a lot of effort into creating a certain first impression for their visitors. Jindosh’s home was fancy, certainly. The antechamber had deep red carpets atop shiny wood floors. The paneled walls were pristine and there were ornate statues and display cases of mechanical oddities lining the room. There was no clutter to indicate a person even lived here.

The audiograph at the entrance warned intruders that the house was full of traps but that scheduled visitors were free to proceed. Cecelia flipped through the appointment book next to the refreshment table. The Santiago’s were scheduled to arrive soon.

She explored the the next room, careful to project the stillness around her that would let her slide past the eyes of any guards. But there were no guards in the next room. Cecelia frowned and took a good look at her surroundings. There was nowhere to go from here. The foyer connected to this one room and this room, furnished with display cases and little else, led nowhere at all.

It was just as Corvo said.

The front doors swung open and Cecelia stumbled back and plastered herself against the wall. Two nobles sauntered in and signed their names in the guestbook. The woman snatched a few grapes and fanned herself dramatically in the perfectly cooled foyer.

“It’s absolutely insulting to make us to come to him,” she whined. “And this late in the evening? Poor etiquette.”

“Oh, come now Lucinda,” her husband teased. “This gives us an opportunity to see the mansion. I’m dying to know what strange things Jindosh works on in his laboratory.”

Lucinda pulled a leaf of paper from her bag. “The appointment card says to follow the instructions to the waiting area and not to deviate.” She smirked and added, “‘Under pain of death’ no less.” The noblewoman giggled to herself. “As if Jindosh would have the nerve to order the Guard to attack us.”

They grinned at each other and strolled into the next room.

“Pull the first lever on your right upon entering the foyer,” Lucinda read aloud from the card.

Cecelia braced herself as the Santiagos grabbed the lever. She raised a hand to her mouth to muffle her gasp when the room broke into sections. The whirring of gears and metal sliding on metal filled the area and Cecelia shuffled away from the wall as it separated from the floor and lifted into the ceiling.

The room expanded into something much larger and two curved staircases rose up from the floor, step by step, leading to a second level. It was breathtaking and terrifying as the house changed shape before her eyes.

The Santiagos climbed the stairs and Cecelia followed close behind. But she stopped short as they passed through a wall of light. She could fool a human into not noticing her but the trick wouldn’t work on a machine. And if she pick-pocketed one of the small metal plates— charged to allow the bearer to pass through unharmed— it would kill the unwitting person she’d stolen it from. There had to be another way through.

Cecelia pulled the map of the walls from her pocket and looked for a point of reference. Now that the foyer was expanded to two floors, there was supposedly a direct path to the laboratory. But according to Jana’s notes, it was almost always locked.There was also a warning in all capital letters that said if the glass doors ever were unlocked, it was probably a trap. Cecelia approached the doors slowly and she saw why.

There was a long walkway from the main part of the house to the rotunda where Jindosh had his laboratory. The walkway was built over the mountain river that ran between the two cliffs the manor was built upon. And currently, there was no floor along the narrow pathway.

The wooden slats that would normally allow a person to cross had been pulled up and to the side, making passage impossible. If a person got through the doors unexpectedly and began to walk towards the lab, Cecelia could see how that unwanted visit would end. With the floor literally pulled out from underneath them.

She needed to find another way. There were spaces between the walls, after all. There had to be for the house to move and rearrange itself the way it did. But she’d need to slip in-between the seams when they were moving.

If she misjudged her timing or got stuck in a section without an exit, she’d die inside the walls. There was big warning on the map from Jana about that as well. Cecelia’s eyes glanced at a small black skull on the map, marking the location of a treasure hunter who’d gotten lost in the walls and died there.

Cecelia steeled herself and pulled the lever. She watched with sharp attention as the floor separated, the walls lowered, and the segments reattached themselves. She pulled one more time to see how everything fit together and where in the walls would be safe to jump to.

“Who’s out there?”

Cecelia nearly squealed and froze in her tracks.

“Hello?” The voice was coming from an intercom just in front of her. “I know someone’s there. Are you a treasure hunter? A rival after my designs?”

Cecelia stayed quiet.

“I’m tempted to see how far you get. How long will you last before you fall victim to one of my traps?” The voice mumbled something unintelligible. “No. There’s too much to do and I have to focus. Ugh. Perhaps I’ll play with the next one.”

Then, the voice came over multiple speakers all over the house, deafening her with their echoes. “Guards! To the foyer! Intruder!”

Her breathing hitched and Cecelia fought the instinct to run. How did he know she was here? Could he detect when the levers changed the rooms?

She shuffled to a corner on the second level near some bookshelves and concentrated. It was easier than hiding with Corvo in the alley because she only had to worry about cloaking herself. Also the guards didn’t know who it was they were looking for. Still, there was no room for error.

The thundering footfalls of guards came from nearby and three men with drawn swords burst through the Wall of Light. Cecelia took a deep breath and went still. Her face fell slack, her eyes lidded heavily, and the world became sharp and slow.

The guards fanned out and swept the area, looking under the sparse furnishings and behind decorative statues. But every time they approached her corner, their footsteps slowed down and their gazes wavered in confusion as if they’d forgotten what they were doing for a moment. And every time, they walked right past her.

Finally, the captain waved the other two away. “Back to your posts,” he said as he sheathed his weapon. He leaned forward, right over Cecelia’s shoulder, and pressed the button on the intercom. “Must be a false alarm. There’s no one here, sir. Maybe the lever has a short circuit or—”

“Southwest corner. Near the bookshelves,” Jindosh snapped over the intercom. “The pressure plates in the floor indicate a person standing right in front of you! Don’t you have eyes, captain?”

Cecelia went rigid and stared in horror at her feet. Pressure plates?

The guard grumbled something unflattering under his breath before calling out with forced pleasantness. “I do have eyes! And I’m standing in the southwest corner near the bookshelves. And there’s nothing here. Your machines must be malfunctioning, Mister Jindosh.”

“Maybe you’re the one who’s malfunctioning,” he snapped. There was a small intake of breath and Jindosh made a thoughtful noise. “Interesting.” A moment of silence passed before he came back on the intercom. “Very well, captain. As you were. Return to your assigned post. I suppose it was… a false alarm.”

The relieved guard walked back through the Wall of Light and Cecelia was alone. Her face burned with shame. She’d promised Corvo she’d be in and out without detection and she was already blown.

“Hello, intruder. I hate to admit it, but I’m utterly fascinated,” Jindosh called out almost sweetly. “I wonder what kind of stealth technology you have that allows you to avoid visual detection in such close quarters!” He sounded giddy. “You may proceed. I’m curious now.”

The Wall of Light shut off and Cecelia inched forward. It had to be a trap. There was no way he’d just let her walk into his house.

“The offer is genuine.” Cecelia gritted her teeth at the sound of his voice coming from yet another intercom, this one just on the other side of the inactive death machine. “Consider this a test run. If you’re able to make it to my lab without being spotted I’ll grant you an audience.”

Cecelia doubted that was true and resisted the urge to say something snarky in response. She needed to find Jana. So she unfolded the map again and made her way down the hall, careful to keep her concentration.

There were guards roaming the corridors and she wove her way around them. Cecelia kept her eyes open for Corvo’s spy who— if her cover was still intact— would be on shift right now. But she didn’t see any maids matching Jana’s description: 40s, short blonde hair, blue eyes, petite build. If the worst had happened and Jana was dead, it was up to her to find something they could use against Jindosh.

Jindosh tracked her progress the entire time. He switched between taunting her privately over select intercoms and trying to get her caught by barking out orders to guards.

“You there! Whoever’s lounging in the northeastern sitting room!”

The dozing lieutenant scrambled to attention. “Yes sir, Mister Jindosh?”

“I need you to do something. I want you to stand up and take five steps forward, then three to your left.”

“I—uh… sir?”

“Just do it!” he yelled.

Cecelia rolled her eyes and moved out of the way. Which, if Jindosh could track her steps, he knew.

“Now to your right a few steps,” Jindosh teased. “Do you see anything? Or _anyone_?”

“Um… no.”

“Concentrate!” the inventor snapped. “Focus your eyes, ears… your nose. Use all your senses to locate the intruder.”

Cecelia moved again, annoyed.

“Now swing your arms around wildly! Punch! Kick! Attack the space around you!”

“What?”

Cecelia leaned back, just in case the man continued to follow orders.

“Do as I say! I’ll know if you don’t!”

The guard held his arms in front of him, just out of reach of Cecelia, and waved them around, though not as enthusiastically as Jindosh instructed, then lifted his legs theatrically in a few slow-motion kicks.

“What in the Void are you doing, lieutenant?” Both Cecelia and the guard froze as the captain from earlier stalked into the sitting room. “I asked you a question! Why are you flailing around like an idiot?”

“I… erm, Mr. Jindosh told me to…” It sounded too silly to say aloud and Cecelia tried not to snicker.

“I was just having him test a theory for me, captain,” Jindosh’s voice said over the tinny speaker. “There will be nothing more for now.” The intercom clicked off.

The captain ran a hand over his face. “Outsider’s balls, he’s getting crazier. The last few months have been strange enough but now he thinks his machines are detecting someone who isn’t there.” He patted the young lieutenant on the shoulder. “Your shift is almost over anyway. Go on home.”

Coast clear again, Cecelia continued exploring. She saw signs pointing her in the direction of the laboratory but hesitated. Jindosh knew where she was. He was expecting her to head straight for his lab. Instead, she turned around and made her way further into the manor. She consulted the map and found an interior window with a small x marked above its frame in chalk.

Clever Jana.

Cecelia smiled and squeezed herself through. There was no way Jindosh had pressure sensitive plates underneath the metal grating she stood upon now. Within the walls, she was free to roam. She followed the twists and turns as best she could, but the whenever the house changed configuration, it changed some of the interior sections as well. The map was useful but not 100% accurate with the way the rooms were arranged. Luckily, there were signs bolted to the walls at cross sections to help maintenance crews navigate.

Over the intercoms in the house, she heard Jindosh make an announcement. “Attention guards coming on to the night shift! We have an intruder somewhere in the house. They are… invisible. Somehow. Keep alert!”

Despite the danger, Cecelia took some small comfort in being a thorn in the genius’ side. She barely stifled her laughter when she eavesdropped on a few of the guards who were smoking on the lower level.

“Invisible intruder? Like… witchcraft?”

“Pfft, I doubt it,” the other guard replied. He lowered his voice and leaned in. “Captain says to pass the word: ain’t no intruder. Jindosh is just messing with us. Or he’s losing his mind. Not sure which I’d prefer.”

She made her way further down and into an area that held some kind of experimental chamber made of glass and moving walls— a literal maze designed for human test subjects. Thankfully, it looked empty. Cecelia shuddered and kept moving.

The next few hours were spent trying to find her way around the maze inside the walls. Every time she did find a location clearly marked on Jana’s map, the adjacent section shown in the drawing was missing. Cecelia sighed. This whole house was giving her a headache.

There was a small office, used by employees and guests, but it held no incriminating evidence. She found nothing in the kitchens, or the waiting areas. Jindosh’s bedroom— and its many different configurations as work space and bathroom— held a few clues about his recent work but it was nothing that made any sense to her. Still, she pocketed some schematics on his desk just in case they were useful.

“I wonder…”

Cecelia jumped back and nearly tripped over his decorative rug. Damned intercoms were everywhere in this house!

“You’ve been here all night snooping around. I assumed you’d come directly to my lab. I thought you were after my work. But you’ve spent your precious hours wandering. Are you looking for something, intruder?” He chuckled to himself. “Are you looking for someone?”

Cecelia gasped and the words left her mouth before she could stop herself. “What did you do to her?”

“So, she _was_ working for you then. Interesting. Implanting a spy among the servants is a good strategy. It’s too bad she didn’t know about the pressure plates in the floor. That’s not common knowledge among the house staff.” Jindosh chuckled to himself. “I saw her going off the grid after her shifts and figured out she was crawling around inside the walls. Spying on me. Was she here on your orders, stranger? Or are you here on orders yourself?”

New plan. Cecelia turned around and marched out of the bedroom, back the way she came. She didn’t bother hiding in the walls this time. She kept her focus so she’d remain unnoticed, but Cecelia had plans to cause a scene.

“She didn’t tell me anything, by the way.” Jindosh’s voice followed her over the intercoms as she stormed down the hall and wove her way past every guard she could find. “Whatever secrets she had died with her.”

The clueless guards startled as Jindosh’s voice piped on over their heads through the intercoms.

“The poor maid claimed not to know what I was talking about. She called me ‘crazy’ just before I threw her into the river underneath the walkway. Ha! As if she could fool me!”

Now the guards were alert and murmuring amongst themselves. “What maid? Who is he talking about?” Cecelia heard them mumble. She passed a young officer just as he asked his partner, “Didn’t the head housekeeper say one of her ladies is missing?”

Jindosh kept taunting. “Right up until the end she thought I was bluffing. She thought I’d keep her alive and question her further. But she didn’t realize how little patience I have for the petty spy games of my rivals.”

The guards were at Cecelia’s heels now as they too made their way to Jindosh. He was confessing to murdering one of the staff over the intercoms after all! It was a risk, being this close to armed guards. But Cecelia’s focus had never been sharper and she stalked down the halls, unnoticed by the men flanking her sides.

She stopped right in front of the entrance to the laboratory and let the guards pass her. Two men, one of them the captain from earlier, strode into the center of the lab and called up to the inventor.

“Jindosh!” the captain called out. “Get down here! What was all that over the intercoms?”

Cecelia took a moment to marvel at the surroundings while the captain tried to get Jindosh to come to the lower level. The laboratory had once been an observatory according to the blueprints she’d seen. The domed roof was high above her heads and the lab itself was several levels deep. She looked through the glass floor at her feet and dizzied for a moment at how far down it went. But at least here, standing on glass, she could be sure Jindosh wasn’t detecting her weight on the floor.

Cecelia stood just behind the men and craned her neck upwards. She couldn’t help but glare at the man leaning over the balcony. Kirin Jindosh’s thin face was framed by black hair and a thinner mustache. He looked down his nose at the guards with an air of smug superiority.

“Get out!” he cried. “No one but myself is authorized to be in this laboratory.”

The captain put a hand on his holstered pistol. “Sir, I’m only going to ask you one more time!”

“Why are you in here when you should be out there looking for the intruder, you incompetent mule!” Jindosh slammed a fist on the railing. “She was in the hall with you! Standing right next to you! I lost her as soon as you entered the lab. She could be in here right now!”

The captain unholstered his gun but held it low at his side. The message was clear. “Sir, this is the final warning. Come down here and let’s talk about what you said. It sounded an awful lot like a murder confession. So, why don’t we just…”

Suddenly, from _behind_ her, Cecelia heard Jindosh’s voice.

“The machine has detected… something.”


	16. Chapter 16

Sunrise broke over the horizon in brilliant shades of pink and orange as Corvo readied his gear for an assault.

Cecelia still hadn’t come out of the mansion. Jindosh’s estate was huge but nine hours was more than enough time to find information and get back outside. Especially with her ability. Something was wrong.

He was armed, masked, and preparing to break down the front door when he heard the screeching of a rail carriage. Corvo smiled wide when he saw who was in the car.

* * *

“The machine has detected… something.”

Cecelia spun on her heel and nearly lost her concentration. She barely avoided screaming and slapped her palms over her open mouth as she came face-to-face with a hulking machine.

It stood on two spindly legs that supported a torso glowing with electricity and whale oil. At its sides were four arms that had blades the length of her leg attached to them! A single lens sat in its forehead in front of a bunch of spinning gears where a brain would be. But the most disturbing was the lower half of its face— a ceramic plate designed to resemble a wide toothy grin.

The lens spun out and a smaller one within it opened and closed. Again, it spoke with Jindosh’s voice.

“Playback indicates a woman, unarmed.”

The machine could see her.

It could see her!

Cecelia took off back towards the atrium. It wasn’t an easy thing, running at full speed while maintaining her concentration enough to remain unseen by the guards. But she needed to put some distance between herself and the giant man-shaped machine with four swords for arms. She just hoped that the noise of her footfalls were hidden underneath the heavy thuds of the machine giving chase.

Cecelia barreled into the atrium and swerved around the clustered group of guards. They’d abandoned their posts in the surrounding rooms are were loitering nervously, probably waiting to see what was happening between Jindosh and their captain.

“What in the Void is that thing?” one exclaimed.

“Look out! It’s coming right for us!” cried another.

The group scattered as the machine burst into the room, a figure of nightmares with its statue grin and swinging blades.

“Guards! Get the intruder!” Jindosh called over the intercoms. “Attack whoever it’s locked onto!”

“It’s locked onto _us_ , you daft son of a— argh!” The guard dodged a blow from one of the machine’s enormous blades as it swung for Cecelia.

“No it hasn’t! It’s after the intruder from before! Hurry up and catch her! It’s identified a woman!”

Multiple guards barely avoided the next blow as Cecelia wove around them and ducked the blades.

“Is he trying to kill us?” one shouted. “He confesses to a murder and now he’s trying to keep us quiet about it?”

“Stupid death machines!” The guard took aim and fired his pistol right at the thing’s face. The sound of shattering glass from the lens was a satisfying one, but the machine didn’t stop. On the contrary, its movement became more frenzied with the loss of its eye.

“Damned puzzle house!” Another guard came at it from behind and drove his sword through its back. A panel shot out and the machine glowed red near a small tank of whale oil.

“This is the worst assignment!” shouted someone else.

Collectively, the guards turned on the mechanical soldier. The thing was hard to kill, and two of the guards fell to its whirling blades. But between the remaining swords and pistols, the machine stumbled and finally fell in a heap.The men inched closer, unsure if the thing would stay down. A high-pitched screeching sounded from the jumbled pile of metal.

“Get back! It’s gonna blow!”

The men scrambled backward just far enough to avoid faces full of flaming oil as the tank powering the machine exploded.

“What have you imbeciles done?” The group turned around to confront Kirin Jindosh, red-faced and fists clenched at his sides. “That prototype was the culmination of months of work! It was worth more than all of your lives combined and you just hacked it to pieces with your pointy sticks like savages!” Jindosh stood over his fallen creation, hands outstretched as if he wanted to hold it.

Cecelia crouched silently in the far corner of the room as the guard captain rounded on Jindosh.

“Now look here!” the captain bellowed. “That thing attacked me and my men. It happened to do so just as I was confronting you about that missing maid. I can’t help but think you planned to throw a few more bodies in the river today, Jindosh.”

The gathered guards’ faces were stoney as they surrounded him.

“What?” Jindosh huffed indignantly. “I found and interrogated a spy. That’s no one’s business but my own.”

“You seemed to think it was everyone’s business a few minutes ago when you were bragging about it,” said a guard.

“I was taunting the intruder! Trying to lure her to me! An intruder who, by the way, you still have not found! So spread out and—”

“Excuse me? Is anyone here?”

Cecelia shot up at the sound of Alexandria Hypatia’s lilting voice. What was she doing here?

“Ma’am! Get back!” shouted the captain. “We’re containing a… situation.”

But Hypatia jogged forward, carrying a medical bag, with Meagan at her side. “Oh no, has he had another episode?”

“Episode?” the captain and Jindosh asked in unison.

Hypatia approached Jindosh, face full of concern. She reached out to feel his forehead like a worried mother, but he slapped her hand away.

“Oh, Kirin. When you missed our last appointment I was worried. I’m glad I came to check on you personally.” Hypatia looked around at the destruction in the atrium. “And not a moment too soon it seems.” She turned to the captain. “Has he been hallucinating? Having delusions about conspiracies and people out to get him?”

The captain’s face went pale. “That’s exactly what’s happened tonight. How did you—”

“I am not delusional! My machines and sensors are not malfunctioning! There is someone in this house!”

Jindosh reached for the sword at his side, but Meagan was there in an instant. With the skill of someone who’d gone through the movements a thousand times, she gripped Jindosh’s wrist and squeezed. He dropped the weapon and she maneuvered him, struggling, to the nearby wall.

“Get your hands off of me! Help!” he cried.

But his guards made no move to stop Meagan as she took a pair of padded leather cuffs from the waistband of her coat and skillfully locked them around Jindosh’s wrists.

Hypatia tutted. “Kirin, we’ve been over this. The instant you become a danger to yourself or others—”

“Guards!” Jindosh commanded. “Attack them!”

The guards didn’t move.

Hypatia turned to the captain and shook his hand. “Dr. Alexandria Hypatia, of Addermire Institute. I’ve been treating Mr. Jindosh for a deteriorating condition. I can’t discuss the specifics of his illness. Confidentiality, you understand. But for the safety of everyone in this house, I think it’s best we commit Mr. Jindosh to Addermire for the foreseeable future.” She shook her head. “The poor man just needs… treatment.”

“No!” Jindosh twisted his Meagan’s grip. “You can’t let her take me! She’s a killer! A madwoman! She’ll eat my flesh and wear my skin!”

“Doctor, we should probably sedate him,” said Meagan. “He’s liable to jump out of the carriage as agitated as he is.”

“It’s going to be alright, Kirin,” Hypatia said tenderly. She pulled a syringe of green fluid from her medical bag and held Jindosh’s head still as she injected the substance into his neck. The veins in his forehead popped and his eye bugged out as he tried to struggle. “The phantoms will stop soon. I promise.”

Cecelia watched as Jindosh grew sluggish and then collapsed in Meagan’s arms. Meagan lowered him to the floor and leaned him against the wall, tilting his head to the side.

Hypatia turned her attention back to the guard captain. “My associate will keep an eye on him while I make sure there’s nothing in his lab that will hurt anyone. Experiments with chemicals, explosives, that sort of thing.”

The captain’s eyes went wide. “Oh! Yes of course. I hadn’t even thought about that. If he was working on anything dangerous…” He waved two men over. “Escort the doctor to the lab and keep her safe just in case there are any more of Jindosh’s crazy experiments running around.” He paused a for a moment added, “And take some grenades with you.”

Cecelia trailed behind Hypatia and her escorts. As soon as they entered the lab, the doctor put some distance between herself and the guards.

Hypatia whispered under her breath, “Tug on my sleeve if you’re here.” Cecelia tugged and the doctor smiled. “Thank goodness you’re alright. Corvo was ready to come in shooting, but we found another way.” She rummaged through tables and cabinets, searching for whatever Jindosh had been working on. “The guards are watching me, so I need you to take those lenses on the far table and slip them into my bag. It’ll be suspicious if I start stealing things.”

Cecelia scurried to the table in question and collected the small stack of curved crystals as well as the notes scattered around them. Hypatia left her bag under a desk where Cecelia could shove everything inside without being noticed. Once Hypatia declared that there was nothing in the lab at risk of exploding or doing harm, she gathered her bag and was escorted back.

“Sad really,” said the guard captain as he walked her to the front door. “All those delusions and the paranoia.”

“The poor dear,” Hypatia said, shaking her head with sympathy. “The intellectually gifted are prone to certain diseases of the mind. We’ll take good care of him back at Addermire. He won’t hurt anyone while he’s under my care.”

Back outside, Meagan deposited Jindosh less than gently into the carriage and waited for everyone to climb inside. The carriage was made for a maximum of four people and the five of them were practically stuffed into the two bench seats.

Once they were well away from the mansion, they all breathed a sigh of relief and Cecelia let her guard down.

“How did you know…” Cecelia was at a loss for words. “You got there just in time.”

Hypatia wrung her hands in the crowded carriage. “I felt terrible just sitting back at the boat, worried something might happen to one of you. I wanted to… do something. So after a few hours we took the skiff to shore.”

Meagan smiled softly. “She insisted on coming to Aventa just in case we were needed. By the time the bars were closing, you two weren’t back yet and we started to worry. Then, we overheard some guards gossiping.” She chuckled to herself. “Seems they’d just gotten off a shift at the clockwork mansion and said Jindosh was acting strange, talking about invisible intruders. And that gave Hypatia an idea.”

Corvo chuckled. “And here I was going to go in shooting.” His face fell when he looked at Cecelia, crouched on the floor of the carriage. “I take it Jana is…”

Cecelia nodded. “Jindosh killed her. But she didn’t tell him anything. When he figured out I was snooping around, he thought I was a rival inventor or treasure hunter. It’s like it never occurred to him that this could be about Delilah.” Cecelia scrunched her face. “Didn’t she warn him you’d be coming?”

Meagan scoffed. “Knowing Delilah, she wanted Jindosh to focus on whatever he was doing for her. My guess is she kept him in the dark about anything he didn’t need to know.”

Cecelia noticed Corvo go very still. He stared at Meagan and finally said, “Hopefully we can use that.”

* * *

They got Jindosh back to the Dreadful Wale and settled into a small room with no port holes. Hypatia had given him a strong dose and they probably had a few hours before he woke up, so Corvo borrowed the skiff and left Meagan to guard him. Alma needed to know that there wouldn’t be any more drops to collect from Jana.

Alma’s house was quiet when he arrived that afternoon. Normally she would have been outside gardening on a clear day like this. He checked around back and looked out to the canal. She fished there some days, but her normal spot on the seawall was empty. Corvo swallowed around a lump in his throat. If anything had happened to her…

“Samuel!” a cheery voice called out.

He spun around and relief washed over him. He took the heavy bag of groceries from Alma’s arms as she unlocked the front door and led him into the kitchen.

“Have you had a chance to check on Jana?” she asked. “It’s day three with no word now and I—”

The look on his face must have have said it all. Alma raised a hand to her mouth and collapsed in one of the kitchen chairs.

“You were right to worry. She’s…” He couldn’t even say it. “You were right.”

They sat together in heavy silence before Alma finally spoke. “She volunteered happily, you know. She was enjoying retirement but didn’t hesitate about the assignment when you asked.”

Corvo scoffed and ran a hand through is hair. “I’m the Royal Protector. I set her up with a fine life and she didn’t want to risk it being taken away. So yes, I’m sure she ‘volunteered happily’, Alma.”

“You would never have taken—”

“No. I wouldn’t have. She could have declined the assignment. But did she truly know that? Or did she think she didn’t have a choice?”

“She was loyal to the empire. You called on her and…” Alma trailed off.

“And she died,” Corvo growled. “Emily has no idea Jana existed! Jana never even met Emily and yet she died so that my daughter could keep her throne.” He shook his head.

Alma sat back and bit her lip. After a moment she spoke. “Jana didn’t give a fig about the empire.” Corvo’s eyes shot up and Alma shrugged. “Most people don’t. They don’t care who sits on the throne or how the government works so long as they can have some stability and safety in their lives.” Alma traced a scratch mark on the kitchen table with her fingernail. “And ‘the empire’ never provided much of that for Jana. But you did.” She wiped another tear. “She was loyal to _you_ and she volunteered because you asked.”

Corvo cocked his head. “You didn’t even know her. You only picked up dead drops from her.”

Alma shrugged. “She and I never met in person. But we communicated daily for weeks. And our communications weren’t _all_ business.” She smiled fondly into the mid-distance. “Jana asked about you in some of them.”

Corvo hung his head. “She was one of the best spies I had.” He smiled fondly in remembrance. “Ten years and a dozen estates and no one ever suspected her. Not until…” He swallowed.

“What happened to Jindosh? Do you kill him?” Alma asked, voice far colder than he was used to hearing.

“No. We need him.” He held his hands up. “I know. It isn’t right. But it’s…”

“I understand.” Alma clenched her jaw. “I hate it, but I understand. Just make sure that he tells you everything.”

“He will,” Corvo said. “And Alma, the next time you talk to Norman, tell him to be extremely careful. Now that Jindosh is out of the picture, Ashworth will be watching her back more closely than before.”

Alma went very still.“Norman missed his drop today.”

* * *

Corvo didn’t bother with stealth until he was well inside Cyria Gardens. He took cover behind a giant tree to catch his breath before he approached the the Royal Conservatory. He tried to tell himself it was nothing. Norman could have thought he was being followed and avoided the drop point. He could be home sick.

But by the time Corvo was scaling the stone walls he knew better. There was a flurry of activity in the entry courtyard and flustered staff paced back and forth in front of a notice board.

“She’s got some ‘special assignment’, order of the Duke,” one spat. “Word came down just an hour ago and she’d already locked herself in the office.”

Another staff member mumbled. “That’s shadier than the Void itself. And even if it was true, there’s no reason the place can’t run without her! Why I gotta lose my job?”

The notice read:

> Conservatory closed until further notice. All exhibits and conservatory grounds are off-limits to the public effective immediately. Staff have until the end of the day to collect their belongings and clean out their desks.
> 
> All volunteers are thanked for their contributions. Part-time employees can expect their wages to be dispensed at the end of the week. Full-time employees and managers can expect wages earned plus a two-week severance to be dispensed the week after next.
> 
> Thank you for your understanding.
> 
> Conservatory Management

Ashworth was getting ready to run! Corvo cursed under his breath and kept moving. He crept along the ledges below the third floor windows and made his way into the main hall. There were more angry staff in here— Norman was not among them— emptying out desks and pilfering office supplies. Most were too focused on their looting to pay much mind to anything else but he still erred on the side of caution. Corvo waited until one man had finished prying some Tyvian Ore loose from a display before he darted up to the ledges that lined the top floor interior.

This high up, the conservatory looked grand indeed. He could see what Norman admired about this place. Giant owls from the northern end of the island were stuffed and hung frozen in flight underneath a leviathan that had somehow been taxidermied and transported inside.

Briefly, Corvo wondered what the Outsider would think of that. Would he be impressed at the amount of effort the endeavor had taken? Would he be horrified and call it barbaric? Probably both.

According to the building map, Ashworth’s office had an upper level. It was used for storage and research and had a window that overlooked the main hall. Corvo found it unlocked and squeezed inside. The upper level was silent but he kept low, just in case she’d left traps or guards behind. But each door he opened held nothing but ransacked cabinets and destroyed work.

He smelled something burning and Corvo followed wisps of smoke to a metal trash bin at the top of the stairs. A large cache of papers had been burned to ashes inside of it. So much for finding financial records he could use against the conspiracy. But he still had the lower level of the office to search. Maybe she’d missed something.

Corvo crept quietly down the stairs and swept his gaze over the office. He raised a brow at the grotesque statue in the center of the room. Norman had mentioned a new statue in Ashworth’s office in one of his reports, but he hadn’t noted its odd composition. It was carved out of smooth black stone, similar to what Corvo had seen in the Void. A figure was frozen in a scream as it reached for something on an empty pedestal in front of him. 

Strange. Corvo would have expected the statue to be on the pedestal, not in front of it. Had Ashworth moved it? Or had something else been there?

Corvo moved in for a closer look.

He gasped and his sword fell from his hand when he was close enough to see the statue’s face. It looked like Norman!

No. It didn’t just look like him. Somehow, Corvo knew, this was his missing spy.

He circled the lump of stone carefully. What had happened? Norman would never have come to confront Ashworth in person. He wasn’t that careless. He preferred planting audiographs and observing from a distance. He never would have barged into the office if he thought it was occupied.

Which meant he’d been taken off-guard when he thought he was alone.

Corvo adjusted his vision and the world tinged orange around him. He hung his head when he saw there was no sign of life from inside the black rock. Norman was in there. But he was dead.

The office was locked from the inside, so whoever did this— Ashworth he assumed— had left through the upper level. He scanned the rest of the room and saw an audiograph machine behind a stack of crates on the ledge above the stairs! It was hidden among the boxes and the receiver was angled over the balcony. It was a perfect spot for recording conversations around Ashworth’s desk!

Perhaps Norman had snuck into the office hoping to retrieve the recording! There was a card still inside that had reached the end of its length. Corvo cleared away the boxes and turned on the machine. 

_“They say Jindosh lost his mind, that he was talking about invisible intruders and things only his machines could see.”_ Corvo bristled hearing Delilah’s voice. _“The guards said Dr. Hypatia came to take him away first thing this morning.”_

_“Hypatia!”_ Ashworth sneered. _“At least now we know why she disappeared.”_

_“Indeed. It seems the Royal Protector is collecting our allies one by one. He’ll come for you next, Breanna. I want you to destroy any documents that could be used against us: purchase orders, inventory, anything. Then collect all of the astrological research and technical documents you were working on with Jindosh, and come to the Grand Palace. Luca will keep us safe.”_

The rest of the recording was just background noises and shuffling papers. Then the audiograph went silent as it ran out of card, but Corvo had heard enough. The three of them were together, plotting their next move behind the safety of the Grand Palace’s walls. But not for long.

* * *

Cecelia was waiting for him on deck when he returned. “Is he awake yet?” Corvo asked, straight to business.

She nodded. “ He just woke up a few minutes ago. Meagan is down there guarding him.”

Corvo nodded and began rolling up his sleeves. He cracked his knuckles one by one, as he descended the stairs into the cargo hold. Megan stood guard outside the small storage room where they were holding Jindosh. He nodded to her as he approached.

“You deliver the news to your friend?” Meagan asked.

Corvo nodded. “I did. And found out some more bad news in the process.” He turned his eyes to Jindosh, expression carefully blank.

Meagan took a long look at his face and rolled-up sleeves. She cast a glance to Jindosh, still tied to his chair, and then carefully shut the hatch in his face.

She turned to Corvo. “We need Jindosh alive, don’t we?”

“That’s the plan.”

“You don’t look like a man ready to have a conversation. Maybe you should cool off before you—”

“He killed Jana!” Corvo hissed. “He dangled her above a chasm and threw her into the river.” He could feel the vein in his temple pumping. “My other spy is dead too. His name was Norman. As soon as they got word about Jindosh, Ashworth cleared out. The conservatory is closed and all the evidence of what they were doing has been destroyed or taken with her.”

“Any idea where she’s gone?”

“The Grand Palace.” Corvo turned to the closed hatch of the storage room and pointed accusingly. “And he’s going to tell me how to get in.”

But Meagan slammed her hand against the hatch before Corvo could open it. “I’ll get him out of there and put him somewhere bigger. Somewhere with more room to… maneuver. Just remember,” she warned, “he needs to be healthy enough to speak. So don’t lose yourself.”

Corvo grunted in acknowledgment and stood back while Meagan hauled him up and skillfully used a joint lock on his arms to keep Jindosh under control while she moved him downstairs.

Meagan Foster had talents she wasn’t fond of advertising, but couldn’t hide in situations like this. Corvo thought back to before the timepiece and how he found Meagan watching the entrance to Stilton’s. Despite her grievous injuries, she was resolute and focused. She was clearly a woman with secrets, but he’d had other concerns at the time.

But now he was working with her, taking shelter on her boat, and trusting her with his life every day. He knew so little about her, and what he did know raised more questions. For example, where did she learn to wrestle a grown man with the efficiency of trained guardsman?

And then there was the detail she let slip in the carriage that felt like a cold stone in his gut. She’d said “Knowing Delilah…”

Meagan knew Delilah. The heart said Meagan could be trusted “to a point” and now Corvo had to wonder at what point he’d have to start sleeping with one eye open.

By the time Meagan came back up from the engine room, Corvo was feeling more in control of himself. “Is it safe to leave him down there with all the equipment? The last thing we need is to have him wreck the engine.”

“Cecelia is down there watching him now,” Meagan assured him. “She’ll let us know if he tries anything when he thinks he’s alone.”

In the engine room, Corvo saw Jindosh strung up between two of the support struts. Meagan had done fine work with the knots. They were tight but not too constrictive and supported his weight well. Jindosh appeared to be alone, but Corvo knew better. Cecelia was somewhere down here, slipping past his eyes.

Jindosh glared and his thin mustache twisted with the curl of his lips. “Well played, Royal Protector,” he said, dipping his head in a mocking bow. “Making the guards think I was mentally ill.”

“An insult to mentally ill people,” Corvo replied.

Jindosh scoffed. “So you say.” He sniffed the air a bit and wrinkled his nose in displeasure at his accommodations. “I would ask what sort of visual cloaking technology your agent used to get into my house… but I doubt you’d tell me. Something of Sokolov’s design? I saw him wandering around in the cargo hold when I woke up earlier. How is he these days?”

Corvo crossed his arms and remained silent.

“Then I suppose it was your spy I killed a few days ago, hmm?” He shrugged as much as his trussed up shoulders would allow. “And here I thought she was sent by a rival out for my job, or perhaps someone from the Academy looking to see how far I’d come without their guidance.”

Corvo shook his head. “It never occurred to you that I sent her?” Corvo asked. ”Delilah called out to me the night of the seance. She knew I was coming for her— for all of you.”

Jindosh huffed, petulant. “She told me you’d been taken care of. The bitch.” His face puckered. “She just wanted me to keep working without asking questions. She didn’t care what happened to me as long as I got the work done. Which I should have figured.” He sighed. “But I assumed I was too valuable for her to risk gambling with my life.”

“Then she probably has what she needed from you already.” Corvo sidled up beside him. “Which means your information is going to be very valuable to me.”

“Which also means you can’t afford to kill me.”

Jindosh’s smirk made Corvo’s fists ball up. This man had one of the most punchable faces he’d ever seen. Corvo had the feeling that if he’d been seated in a chair, Jindosh would have crossed his legs dramatically and leaned back. The best he could do in his current state was tilt his hip slightly. It looked ridiculous.

“We don’t want to kill you, Kirin.”

Both men turned to face the sound of the voice. Hypatia stood at the top of the stairs, posture timid but her eyes were resolved. She smiled a bit and made her way down the steps.

“Doctor Hypatia.” Jindosh greeted her with a nervous grin. “How good to see a colleague.” He turned to Corvo. “How much do you know about her?”

“Everything,” Hypatia said before Corvo could answer. “And I’m better now, Kirin. No more serum. No more… Alex.”

Jindosh kept his eyes focused on Corvo. “So you know the things she did? The murder you were framed for—”

“I know, Jindosh.” Corvo crossed his arms and looked to Hypatia. “And it wasn’t her fault.”

Hypatia hung her head, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Corvo was fond of the woman but he needed to focus on the interrogation and having her here, working through her guilt, was not going to help anything.

“Doctor, maybe you should go back up to the galley. Meagan has some tea.”

Hypatia shook her head. “No, I— I came to help.”

“I know you want answers, but this is…”

“Right in my wheelhouse,” Hypatia filled in for him. “Trust me.”

Corvo’s skin went icy as Hypatia’s body language shifted, smooth as the changing tides, from prey to predator. For an instant, he thought he saw her— Alex. It wasn’t Alex, though. Not really. There was a control to Hypatia’s movements than Alex didn’t have. There was a focus to the gleam in her eyes as she examined Jindosh’s restrained form.

Hypatia walked a circle around him, and her fingers traced a path along his arms and back as she did. Jindosh shivered visibly, and his smirk disappeared. He went very still, like a small animal that knew it was under close observation.

“I know chemistry wasn’t your strongest subject at the Academy, Kirin,” Hypatia mused. Jindosh bristled at the insult. “But the serum didn’t work quite the way the Duke explained it to you. I doubt he even understood.” Her eyes went unfocused. “Vasco understood, rest his spirit. He knew.” She wiped a tear from the corner of her eyes. “That serum didn’t create ‘Grim Alex.’ It just unchained her.”

She ran her hands along Jindosh’s shoulders, and spread her fingers as if she were mentally taking his measurements. “We all have a dark side, Kirin. Some more than others. When Dr. Vasco tried the serum it revealed his frisky side. But he didn’t do anything that would have landed him the gallows. Not like I did.”

Hypatia circled around to his front. “Now, that piece of me is under control, just like it has been my entire life.” She ran a finger along Jindosh’s jaw. “But it doesn’t have to be. It never _had_ to be.” Hypatia trailed her steady hands along Jindosh’s face, as if studying his bone structure. “Helping people fills me up with… something. Something that quiets me. But there are other sensations I could be filled with. I know that. I think I’ve always known.”

She took Jindosh under the chin and lifted his face. Without looking away from him she said, “Corvo can you leave the room please? I won’t need more than ten minutes. Maybe twelve.”

The spymaster in him wasn’t sure if this was act on Hypatia’s part or not, but it was working to unravel Jindosh’s resolve. Moments ago he’d been confident and smirking but now all the blood had drained away from his pale face, leaving him a ghostly shade of white. His legs trembled and the pupils in his dark eyes were pinpricks of anxiety. Corvo knew if he hesitated or second-guessed Hypatia, the ruse— and Void, he hoped it was a ruse— would crumble.

He took the chance. “I’ll guard the stairs. You have twelve minutes.” Corvo took a pocket watch from his vest and checked the hands. “Beginning now.”

His feet were heavy as he ascended the steps and watched from the corners of his eyes as Hypatia began to open her captive’s shirt with hungry interest. Cecelia was in there. She’d stop Hypatia if it got out of hand. Wouldn’t she?

But just as he reached the top of the steps, Jindosh cried out.

“Wait! Attano get back here! Wait!” Corvo turned back and leveled him with an incredulous look. “I’ll tell you! Alright? I’ll talk! Just don’t—” He jerked away from Hypatia’s touch. “Just don’t leave me alone with her!” he begged.

Corvo leaned against the railing and looked down on his captive. “How can I trust you to tell the truth?”

“I have no loyalty to Delilah or the Duke,” he spat. “I just needed funds for my research and Luca Abele was a long-time patron of mine. The work they had me doing was cutting edge, in fields I never would have been able pursue through anyone else. But as far as seeing Delilah crowned Empress of the Isles? I couldn’t care less whose ass sits in that pointy chair in Dunwall Tower.” He breathed heavily. “So I’ll talk, in exchange for significant leniency.” Jindosh swallowed. “I’m not fool enough to hope for immunity. I know you’re going to throw me in prison. But perhaps if I’m a very cooperative prisoner, I can come out ahead one day in the future.”

Corvo clenched his jaw and fought the urge to leap over the stairs at Jindosh.

“The distant future,” Jindosh corrected.

Corvo jumped over the railing with a grace that defied his age and met Jindosh, nose-to-nose. “If you lie about any detail, if a single fact doesn’t add up, any hope you have for a comfortable imprisonment is over. Do you understand?”

Jindosh nodded. “I’ll tell you everything. The plot, the rituals — what bits of that occult nonsense I could understand anyway— and the pieces of the machine I was working on.”

“The machine. Tell me about it.”

“Delilah had me working on the technical side of things while Ashworth did the magical research. It had to with mapping and measuring the Void.”

“Measuring the Void?” The deja vu punched Corvo in the gut.

“It might sound insane, but it’s not unheard of among some natural philosophers who operated on the fringes of what the Academy would allow. There were rumors that Piero Joplin did experiments with the theoretical mechanics of it years before he died.”

Something about this was too familiar. Corvo tried to focus on his breathing through the pain in his head.

Jindosh continued. “But what Delilah is doing is leagues beyond what Joplin was working on. She doesn’t just want to measure and plot the Void, like an explorer with a viewing glass. Oh no. There’s more to it, but I can only guess about the specifics. The early work I did on the vibration sensors, those were for taking measurements based on the trace emissions from the Void that can be felt in our world.”

Corvo must have winced from the building headache, because Jindosh elaborated. “Oh yes, it’s true. Forbidden by the Academy to study it, of course. That would _heresy_ after all.” Jindosh scoffed. “But there are detectable vibrations being emitted from the Void— sounds far outside the range human hearing— all around us, every moment. And it changes based on where in the world you are. There are flows of energy, like currents in the ocean, that have to be accounted for. That’s the part of it I was working on. I needed to measure the vibrations of the Void and calculate for the distortions caused by the flows of energy in and around Karnaca. Especially the siphon at Stilton’s manor. But then…” Jindosh took a deep breath. “Then they had me start on the lenses.”

Jindosh sagged in his bonds. “Much as it pains me to admit, I’m not certain what use they’d be in the machine I thought I was helping them build. The lenses wouldn’t be needed to measure the vibrations. Which means there’s more to the calculations I was working on than I thought.”

Jindosh scowled. “Lenses are used for viewing, though the specifications I was given lead me to believe that ‘seeing’ into the Void is not a simple matter of focusing light. No. Delilah is no natural philosopher, but she was— perhaps still is— connected to the Void. And that gives her insight into things I can only dream about.”

“This machine,” Corvo grunted out. “How close is it to being finished?”

“They abandoned me to your tender mercies, so clearly my part in all of this was over. As for Ashworth, I’m assuming you’ve tried to intercept her and failed?”

Corvo didn’t answer but Jindosh inferred the answer from his silence. “Well, if Delilah is still protecting Breanna, then we can assume her contributions are still in progress. Ashworth was giddy every time I delivered a new lens. She’d disappear with my work and my calculations, then I’d get ‘feedback’ on what needed to be altered. So they’ve been using the Oraculum for some time, incomplete or not.”

“The… what?”

“The Or-ac-u-lum,” Jindosh enunciated, as if to a child. “Delilah calls it the Oraculum.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for descriptions of gore, animal death, and explorations of dark psychological themes.

Jindosh spoke for over an hour about the specifics of the Oraculum while Hypatia took notes. It wasn’t her area of expertise but she’d studied enough mathematics at the Academy to keep up with Jindosh’s descriptions. Then, they took what they’d extracted from him up to the cargo hold.

Sokolov took the papers and Corvo saw a faint sparkle behind his eyes as he read over the formulas. Or equations. Or whatever they were called.

“Interesting.” Sokolov flipped through the pages, eyes darting from one line to the next eagerly. “If this is correct, then it calls Hughes’ Third Law into question.” He shook his head and looked up to Corvo. “I’ll need a few minutes to acquaint myself with these,” he mumbled, and waved Corvo away.

Corvo turned to Hypatia. She was pale and taking short shallow breaths. “Doctor,” he said quietly. “Let’s go topside. Get some fresh air.”

She nodded and he led her up the stairs. The weather was unseasonably cool and the breeze refreshing. But it did little to bring back the color to Hypatia’s cheeks.

“About down below…” Corvo hesitated.

“It was a bluff.” Hypatia cast her eyes to the deck, then to Corvo, and back down. “I wasn’t going to do anything. But I needed Jindosh to think I would.”

Corvo believed her. For the most part. “Your body language shifted. Almost like I was looking at someone else.”

“It was an act.” But Hypatia averted her gaze when she said it. She twisted at the cuffs of her shirt sleeves. After a long pause, she spoke again.

“When I was six years old I killed a cat. It was stalking a mouse in the alley near our home. It was so focused on the mouse it didn’t notice me until my hand was around its neck.”

Hypatia choked back a sob. “I took it apart slowly. I didn’t have any idea what I was doing, of course. But before I knew it, I had the poor thing practically turned inside out. That’s when my mother found me.” She sucked her lips behind her teeth. “I told her a dog has gotten to it and that’d I’d been… curious.”

Hypatia ran her hand along the front of her shirt, pressing out the wrinkles with her fingers. “I felt sick about what I’d done. After, that is. I never hurt anyone or anything again. Not until…”

“The serum.” Corvo waited for her to continue.

Hypatia nodded. “It would be disingenuous to blame _everything_ I did on the serum. Vasco tried it with me the first time and the worst he did was…” She coughed. “…something sexual to a mannequin and a creamed pastry. That was the darkest urge he had inside him. Not like me.”

“When I was accepted to the Academy as a young woman I gravitated towards medicine. I liked helping people. That part was never a lie. But focusing on medical research let me help people and still satisfy… certain urges.” Hypatia wrapped her arms around herself. “It seemed a good fit.”

She alternated between shoving her hands into her pockets and twisting them in her sleeves. “I don’t know why I just told you all of that. But I wanted you to know I’m not a danger to anyone. As long as I’m myself, I never will be.” She looked at him, desperate for reassurance.

Corvo gazed at his own hands for a moment. “I avoid killing if I can. But I have killed.” He ran a finger along the edges of the railing. Bits of paint flecked off, exposing rusted iron beneath.

“To protect people,” Hypatia said. “You didn’t do for the… feeling of it all.”

Corvo looked her in the eyes. There were dark bags underneath and her lids were heavy. He smiled, a bit sad, and shrugged. “Sure.”

He watched as Hypatia’s eyes widened, just a fraction. Then, she sidled up beside him and stared into the harbor.

They stared at the shimmering water for a few moments before Corvo spoke again. “I got into my first real fight when I was seven years old. Some neighborhood boys were running their mouths, and they said…” He paused. “Something unflattering about my mother and sister, I think.” That was before Beatrici disappeared, of course. Corvo sighed.

“I told myself I was defending their honor. It’s what any good boy would do.” He gripped the rail and scoffed as he lingered in the memory. “No. A good boy would have taken a swing and been beaten into the dirt for his trouble. It was two against one and they were both bigger than me.”

Hypatia hummed. “So, what did young Corvo do?”

“I wrapped my little hand around a brick and swung for the biggest one’s face. He went down. Hard. That bought me some time to zero in on his friend. Make sure he was in no condition to interfere by the time the big one recovered.”

Corvo’s nostrils flared. He could almost smell the copper tang of blood. He hadn’t expected it to mist when the smaller boy spat it out. It had almost lingered in the air, hanging for a second before splattering across his face like a sticky cloud.

“When I came home, blood on my fists and on my clothes, my mother asked for the story. The boys’ parents weren’t too far behind me though. And so I repeated the words the boys had spoken about my mother and sister.” Corvo chuckled to himself. “I didn’t know what half of them even meant. But they must have been horrible because the boys’ mothers went pale and apologized to mine on their sons’ behalf. Then, my mother gave me a pat on the head and some sweetbread for my ‘heroics’.”

Heroics. That’s what the adults called it. But Corvo didn’t attack those boys because his sense of honor compelled him. He didn’t even understand the insults the boys had used. He just knew they’d finally given him an excuse. Corvo remembered how he’d reigned himself back at the last moment, standing over the largest boy— the one who’d teased and taunted him for months— a brick in his hand as he debated taking one last swing…

“I’ve been defending people’s honor ever since.” He turned to head back down below deck, but glanced over his shoulder to Hypatia before he did. “It seemed a good fit.”

* * *

Corvo was out of his depth as he stood in the cargo hold, staring at gibberish on a board. At least, it looked like gibberish to him.

Sokolov shuffled from the board to the table where he had the lenses laid out. He claimed this was some of the most advanced theoretical mathematics he’d ever seen. The former physician stood gaping in equal parts jealously and wonder as he took his own notes and checked the formulas Jindosh had provided.

“It’s insanity,” Sokolov marveled. “It’s brilliance and madness.” He laid out a diagram on the workspace and began drawing lines with a straight-edged tool.

Corvo’s gut roiled with the uneasy feeling of déjà vu. That diagram was so familiar, and something about Sokolov touching it felt wrong.

“This is all theoretical of course,” Sokolov continued. “And there _was_ a lot of information being kept from Jindosh. But there are clues. These equations refer to the energies generated by the Void. But Jindosh’s work was _compensating_ for energy flows in our world. Like tuning an instrument by ear to best suit the acoustics of the room you’re in.”He scribbled out a few more notes. “But Delilah wasn’t just listening. She needed to account for the waves of energy because she was trying to… communicate?”

Sokolov shook his head and spread out the sheets of paper on the workbench beside his room. “I need to know more! Whatever Ashworth was working on independently has to be the missing pieces of this puzzle.”

He began to pace around the room mumbling about wavelengths and how the more organized internal structures of the crystals, versus glass, would influence the purpose of the machine. Corvo couldn’t follow most of what Sokolov was talking about. But he’d gotten the gist of it from Jindosh.

He and Ashworth were working on a machine to help Delilah monitor the Void itself.

But Delilah’s first priority had to be building allies and support for her claim in this world, not the Void. If she was truly focused on undermining Emily and stealing her throne— at least, that was supposed to be the first phase of her plan— then there had to be something about the function of this Oraculum they were missing. They were devoting too much time and money to this machine for it to be unrelated to the coup!

And the only way to stop the coup was to kill Delilah.

Luckily, Jindosh was the mind behind most of the security at the Grand Palace, as well as the spacious vault where the Duke stored his valuables. If Delilah’s effigy was anywhere, it would be in there. And now Corvo had the blueprints.

He spread the plans out on a corner of the table and studied. The vault had two possible entrances: an upper level door accessible through the back of the Palace, and a lower level door accessed through the wine cellar. The outdoor entrance seemed the best way in at first glance. He could sneak around back, keeping high to avoid patrolling guards, and use the rear vault door to access it. But, according to Jindosh, that door could only be opened from the inside. And even if it could open from the outside, it was guarded by an arc pylon with an oil tank that was only accessible near the vault door.

Corvo would have to go in through the wine cellar entrance.

At some point Sokolov had stopped pacing and speculating aloud, and now stood still in front of Corvo, expectant.

“I’m sorry, you asked me something?” Corvo said, looking up from the blueprints.

“I said, I’m sorry about your spies. I know you wanted to protect them.”

Unsure how to respond, Corvo nodded curtly. The hurt was still fresh and he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Jindosh is a monster,” Sokolov continued, unprompted. “Killing that woman in cold blood the way he did. Completely unnecessary.”

Corvo nodded again and said nothing. Sokolov was hardly in a position to judge someone else’s morals, new humble life or not.

“I remember him from his time at the Academy. Even back then, there was something wrong about him. Genius often makes a person off-putting to others, but in Jindosh’s case it was something else.” Sokolov stroked his beard as he reminisced. “Some of the experiments he proposed were horrifying, regardless of the—”

“As if you’re any better!” It took Corvo a moment to realize he’d spoken that aloud. Seeing Sokolov again, and after having dredged up his old demons in front of Hypatia, Corvo felt like a hornet’s nest was buzzing within his chest.

“Yes, Jindosh is a monster.” Corvo leaned across he table on balled fists and into Sokolov’s face. “But so were you. How many people did you torture with sick experiments in the name of knowledge?”

Sokolov bristled. “To cure the plague! To save a city!”

“There were other ways. Kinder ways than what you did.”

“What would you know about it?” Sokolov held his head high.

“I watched you for a while before I took you. Did you know that?”

Sokolov kept his gaze steady and shook his head. “No. I assumed you snatched me as soon as you found me.”

“I sat in the shadows and watched you. I listened. ‘Test subject 312.’” Corvo recited from his memory of Sokolov’s old audiograph. “‘After the characteristic sloughing of the skin, she should be dead by mid-morning tomorrow.’” He stared Sokolov down. “She begged you for relief. For hope. For death.” Corvo rounded the table slowly. “You kept her in a cage like an animal and wore a smile while she wept for mercy.”

“You think I didn’t care?” Sokolov spat. “Well I—” He paused, and his rigid features softened. “You’re not wrong.” His shoulders slumped. “I had a goal. And Ms. Archer was a mean to those ends. And I saved lives by being that callous.”

Corvo raised a brow.

“Helen Archer,” Sokolov said in reply to the unanswered question. “That was her name. Subject 312.”

Corvo hadn’t found any records of Sokolov’s ‘patients’ when he searched the house that day. He summoned the Heart.

_“His past torments him. Can he ever atone for the pain he's caused?”_

“Shut up! Both of you!”

The two men wheeled around to see Meagan standing in the doorway. “Yes, he was a monster. But he’s not anymore. Now he’s…” She sighed and shook he head. “He’s trying. Damn you, Corvo. He’s trying to change.” She lifted her face and stared him in the eyes, daring. “People _can_ change.”

Meagan pulled Corvo aside and into the galley. “There are a lot of people on this boat now,” she whispered. “It’s making everyone tense, even me. I don’t like living arrangements that are this crowded.”

Corvo squared his jaw. This was as good a time as any to confront her. “Oh? Is that why Delilah’s coven didn’t work out for you? Overcrowding?” Corvo asked.

Meagan stiffened and looked as if she’d been struck.

“You slipped up in the carriage. You said ‘knowing Delilah’.” Corvo stepped forward, and into her space. “I let it slide at the time because we had other things to focus on. But you know her.”

Meagan’s face flickered between a few different emotions before it settled into resignation. “I used to,” she admitted. “I bought into her bullshit a long time ago. ” She rubbed the back of her neck. “She said she wanted to upset the balance of power to help the poor and the forgotten. Delilah lived on the streets once. She knew what it was like and she had every reason to mean what she said, but…” She trailed off.

“But?” Corvo crossed his arms and leaned back, listening.

“But sometimes power changes people.” She looked to Corvo’s Marked hand. “Not everyone, I suppose. But it did change her. Or maybe she was always this monstrous and the Outsider’s Mark just gave her the resources to be her worst self.” Meagan sighed. “Either way, she has to be stopped. She’d be a worse tyrant than even the most spoiled noble.”

“How long ago was this? When did you buy into her bullshit?”

Meagan swallowed. “During the plague. Seemed like the world was ending and she said she could make something out of the ashes. Something better for the people. But it was… she was full of shit. When I realized that, I left her coven and never looked back. I fled south and the rest is history.”

Corvo didn’t fail to notice that Meagan was vague about what kind of history that was.

“Corvo, I have more regrets than most. More than you certainly. Helping Delilah wasn’t even the worst thing I’ve done in my life. But I did turn on her back then, and I’m committed to helping you stop her now. I swear it.” They stood unmoving for several long moments before she added, “I hope you can believe that.” Meagan turned to walk away.

Corvo had a lot to think about. He believed Meagan when she said she wanted to defeat Delilah and having a former follower of hers on their side could be very useful. But something was still off. Meagan was hiding something. He summoned the Heart again and aimed it at Meagan’s back just before she rounded the corner.

_“She has many secrets. She may tell you, in time.”_

That wasn’t comforting. But since the Heart seemed to be taking Meagan’s side, Corvo decided to let it go and focus on the immediate danger: Delilah and her immortality.

He needed to get into the Palace, access the vault, and find the effigy that housed Delilah’s soul. And once he found it, the Outsider said he’d “know what to do.”

* * *

This was it. It could all end tonight.

Corvo gathered his supplies and armed himself for the assault. It felt like coming home when he slipped on the uniform designed for the Royal Protector by Emily’s tailor. Normally he’d want to be unrecognizable. But tonight, he wanted the conspirators to know exactly who he was. Tonight Corvo Attano was the one making things right.

He told Cecelia to stay behind, not because she couldn’t be useful but because someone needed to keep an eye on Jindosh. Jindosh still didn’t know about Cecelia and thought her stunt at the mansion was some sort of stealth technology from Sokolov. The man could probably make a death weapon out of some copper wire and rat bones and Corvo needed someone to watch him when he thought he was alone.

Meagan offered to go in with him after she’d dropped him off in the skiff, but he declined. Her connection to Delilah was too new a revelation and he didn’t want to have any distractions. So tonight, Corvo had no backup.

The trip to the Palace District was a short one. Corvo memorized the map of the area as well as the blueprints for the Grand Palace and its vault. Ravina Boulevard had fewer guards and security checkpoints than he would have expected, given the circumstances. After all, the Masked Felon was running loose in Karnaca, murdering nobles. He expected the a heavy Grand Guard presence in the blocks leading up to the Grand Palace’s carriage system.

But it was far too easy to slip around via alleys and side streets and then through a sparsely inhabited apartment building to access the carriage. Something was wrong. Corvo itched with the feeling he was being watched. For once, he genuinely hoped it was the Outsider’s gaze on the back of his neck.

He knocked out the two guards assigned to the carriage station— and there were only two, Corvo noted— and locked them inside a nearby storage room. Corvo checked the carriage itself for traps before he got in. He wouldn’t put it past the Duke to try and kill him remotely. But the carriage was clean.

More and more, this felt like a trap, but Corvo had to keep moving. Maybe luck would be on his side tonight. Perhaps the remaining conspiracy members were too busy trying to figure out their next moves to worry about increased security.

Corvo scoffed at his own wishful thinking. No, there was definitely something more going on.

Getting inside the Palace was a bit tricker than getting to it. There was an increased Guard presence outside the perimeter and on patrol in the halls. Something inside Corvo untwisted at that.

It took nearly an hour of sneaking around and observing the guard patrols for Corvo to make his way to the Duke’s private chambers. The man did not live subtly. Corvo deposited an unconscious guard in some shrubberies outside the harbor-facing window by the quarters and peered inside the decadent chamber.

Blessedly, the Duke was alone, content that the increased security would hold him back. His broad frame paced back and forth, seemingly aimless, as he mumbled to himself and stroked his mustache like a old story-book villain.

Corvo waited until the Duke’s back was to the window, then he flexed his left hand and moved swiftly. The word turned grey and time slowed as Corvo leapt into action. He shouldered open the large doors with a crack and barricaded them behind him. Then, he was behind the frozen Duke with his sword to man’s throat.

Time resumed and Luca Abele startled at the sudden sensation of a cold blade on his neck. He turned his head slightly, stealing a glance of the famous mask Corvo wore. When he spoke, his breath smelled like red wine and cigars.

“I had a feeling you’d come here,” the Duke said softly. He kept his head high.

“You put out the welcome mat for me. I’m flattered.”

The Duke curled a lip. “Useless guards. I should have just encircled the Palace with arc pylons and been done with it.”

Corvo began leading him to the door, sword still pressed against his throat. “Why didn’t you?”

Abele scoffed. “It was short notice and my Royal Inventor has gone missing. Or hadn’t you heard?”

Corvo smiled behind his mask. “Where are Delilah and Ashworth?” The Duke stayed silent. Corvo pressed the blade just enough to knick the skin. “Answer me.”

“The vault,” he whispered. “They’re in vault.”

“How convenient. That’s where I’m headed, too.” He pressed the blade against the small cut again for emphasis. “Here’s what about to happen. I’m going to take off my mask and you’re going to lead me downstairs into the wine cellar. When your guards ask, you’ll tell them I’m an old friend and you’re giving me a tour. Make it convincing. I don’t want to kill anyone tonight, but for the sake of the Empire and the safety of the Empress, I will.”

The Duke nodded quickly. “Fine. Just… what are you going to do?”

“Whatever I have to,” Corvo said, as he removed the mask and tucked it underneath his waistcoat. “If you’re concerned about yourself, you’ll go to trial. I won’t kill you unless you make me. Same for Ashworth.”

“And De—Delilah?” he whispered, almost reverent.

“We both know what has to happen to her, Luca. If you interfere, you’ll share her fate.”

Corvo sheathed his sword and placed a hand on the Duke’s shoulder. Before he opened the door into the main corridor, Corvo squeezed the junction where the shoulder and neck connected. “Remember what I said.”

The door swung open and Corvo half expected Abele to make a run for it. But he didn’t. The two of them walked casually down the stairs and past several guards. The first one they passed stiffened and reached for his pistol but the Duke held up a hand to call him off.

“Stand down,” he said. “No cause for alarm. I’m just taking my friend on a short tour of the premises.”

“Your friend? When did—”

“The captain was informed,” Abele said, radiating annoyance. “If you didn’t get the memo, that’s not my problem. You can read, can’t you soldier?”

The guard looked sheepish. “Oh, the uh, memo. Of course. I read that. Memo. Yes.”

“Now continue your patrols!” Abele sniped as they continued down the stairs towards the cellar.

Corvo had to admit, the Duke was a decent actor and improvised well. When they reached the wine cellar, the Duke waved away two guards who are on duty and pretended to take great pride in showing Corvo one of his prized bottles of Morlian Amber Wine from before the Insurrection. Once the guards were out of sight on the upper level, he dropped the act.

Abele felt along the inside of the cabinets and pushed a small button. The wall in front of them slid back and revealed a narrow hallway, leading down. Corvo shoved the Duke in front of him to lead the way.

The hidden room behind the walls revealed a large table set for a meeting. A chalk board had been wiped clean. Corvo glanced at the scattered papers around the table: maps of Karnaca and Dunwall, mathematical formulas like the ones Jindosh had provided, various correspondences with Dunwall nobles.

Corvo stopped dead in his tracks when one name jump out at him: Mortimer Ramsey.

His stomach rolled and Corvo hoped he wasn’t too late to stop them. If they managed to get Ramsey on their side, Emily’s safety was already compromised.

He shoved the Duke towards the circular vault door. “Open it.” The world tinted orange as Corvo adjusted his vision. He couldn’t see anyone inside the vault, but from the blueprints he knew it was a huge space and they could be further in.

The Duke fumbled with the key but eventually got the lock to catch. They stepped inside and Corvo kept Abele in front of him to act a shield in case the two women tried to ambush him.

But there was no ambush. There was no effigy. The vault was nearly empty except for an audiograph in the center of the floor. Corvo approached it cautiously and played the card.

_“My dear, Corvo,”_ the recording began. He cringed at the sound of Delilah’s voice uttering those familiar words. _“How wonderful of you to pay me a visit. I’m sorry you just missed me. I was looking forward to killing you in person, but things are moving quickly and now I’m needed elsewhere. But when I return to Karnaca I’ll be sure to collect your bones from the vault. Perhaps I’ll make a charm from your fingers and a rune from your skull.”_ She cackled to herself. _“I’ll carve his mark on them and leave them at a shrine. I wonder if I’ll finally hear the Outsider weep.”_

Corvo spun around just in time to hear the door swing shut behind them. He rushed the door and shoved but it was no use. The locked had already clicked.

But he couldn’t be trapped in here. Not while the Duke still had his key! Corvo rushed him and ripped the chain from his pocket. The Duke didn’t even put up a fight. But when Corvo tried the key, it didn’t fit the lock! He pushed harder, twisted every direction but the lock wouldn’t budge.

“Where’s the other key?” He grabbed Abele by the collar and held him against the wall with one hand while he searched the overstuffed body for another key.

“You have it in your hand, you madman!” Abele protested.

“Not the key to get in,” Corvo hissed in his face. “The key to get out. Where is the key that fits into this side of the vault door.” The Duke went pale as realization dawned on them both. Corvo’s grip tightened. “Are you telling me you don’t have it?”

Abele looked him in the eyes and shook his head. “I’m not who you think I am. I’m just his body double! My real name is Armando!”

Corvo’s stomach sank. Something felt off about all of this from the beginning.

_“It takes a toll on him, being someone else all the time. He hates imitating that smug grin. Some days he wonders if he’ll ever wear his own smile again.”_

Shit. Corvo took a good long look at the man. He was a perfect double for Luca. And he was good too. Everything from the tone of his voice to the gait of his walk was impeccable. His own guards probably couldn’t even tell the difference.

“So where is the real Duke Abele? Is he even in the Palace?” Corvo demanded.

The double shook his head. “He’s gone! He left this morning with those two women— the curator and his mistress who wears all the flowers. They took a ship north.”

Corvo cursed and turned away. “They’re headed to Dunwall while we’re locked in here. Dammit!”

“That bastard,” spat the double. “He told me to lead you in here and there’d be a trap set for you. I assumed he meant there were guards or something. But this is it, isn’t it?” He waved to the vault door, now sealed shut. “Seal us both away. A trap indeed.”

Corvo sighed. “Two threats eliminated in one night. We starve to death in here and he continues his plans with Delilah and Ashworth.”

“Two threats? Wh-why am I a threat?” the double stammered.

“You probably know too much.” Corvo walked a circuit around the vault, looking for an exit. “I can only imagine the things you’ve overheard in this place.”

“If you only knew,” said the double.

Corvo filed that information away for now. If they ever got out of here the body double could be useful. But first, they had to escape the vault.

There wouldn’t be anyone standing behind the vault door in the hidden room. He’d already taken a chance and looked through the door for silhouettes or footsteps. The door was designed to swing shut after opening. Normally, the person entering would have both keys, but the Duke had only given his double the one to enter and neglected to gift him with the key he’d need to leave.

With the lower door locked, the only other exit was the door on the upper level. Corvo knew there was an arc pylon on the other side of the door but he could always figure out a way around that. Naturally, the door release button inside the vault had been disabled. He examined the circuitry, hoping a rewire tool could repair its function, but the entire panel was nonfunctional. There wasn’t even any electricity running to the door. It was held in place, not by the magnetic locking strips, but bolted into the walls.

Corvo reared back and punched the metal door with all his strength. “Gah!” he yelled. His voice echoed in the empty vault.

* * *

By the next morning it was clear no one was coming.Corvo hadArmando bang on the thick steel and scream with all the authority he could imitate. But no guards were scheduled to patrol near the upper level door. Hours passed and no one came.

Corvo searched the vault for anything he could use as a tool to escape and found nothing. The walls that should have been lined with the island’s treasury reserves were mostly bare, with only a few scattered ingots around the shelves. There were some personal effects and knickknacks as well: family portraits, old childhood journals, various gilded trinkets.

The only thing odd about the sparse collection was a small wooden ornament placed deliberately away from the rest of the items. It looked like the head of a gazelle and the long protruding horn was stained dark with old blood.

It took a moment for him to make the connection but Corvo gasped when he did. This was the improvised murder weapon used to kill Radanis Abele! Corvo had heard the grisly tale from some of the City Watch officers at the time. The elder Abele brother was stabbed through the eye with the ornament from his carriage by a homeless youth who was never brought to justice.

And Abele kept the thing in his vault? Corvo would have thought it morbid to keep such a gruesome memento, but then he couldn’t judge. After all, he kept the incorporeal heart of his dead lover and used it as a guide and confidant. He shook is head clear and went back to business.

After hours of searching every inch of the domed prison, Corvo was desperate enough to try his powers in front of a witness. He figured it couldn’t do any harm. If they were able to escape, hopefully Armando would be grateful enough to have escaped death not run to the Abbey. And if it didn’t work, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone anyway.

He put Armando on a high ledge and summoned a swarm of rats. The rodents scattered and tried to find an exit but eventually gave up.There were no air vents that he could see, but Corvo possessed one of them anyway and searched for himself. He didn’t find anything the rats hadn’t.

No air vents meant they’d eventually run out of air. But as big as the space was, lack of water would probably kill them first. Especially if he kept exerting himself.

Finally, Corvo settled down against the far wall next to the wide-eyed body double.

“If we make it out of here alive,” Armando said, “I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

“Appreciated,” Corvo replied.

He pulled the pocket watch from his vest and saw that over a full day had passed. That seemed about right given how dry his mouth was. A full day without water was uncomfortable but more than a few would be fatal.

The others had to be worried. He was certain they would come looking for him but the question was whether or not they would be able to find him. And even if they did, would they be able to get through the vault?

“This was the worst job I’ve ever had,” Armando said. “I quit.”

Corvo chuckled despite the grim circumstances. “Good call.” He paused a moment and then added, “Will there be anyone looking for you? Would the guards think the real Duke is missing when they can’t find you?”

Armando shook his head. “No. Abele may have left in secret but as far as the main force of guards knew he— or rather, I— was leaving late last night.” He scoffed to himself. “One of his personal retinue packed me a bag and everything. Really sold it. As far as the rank and file are concerned, the Duke left with his personal guards late last night. And those personal guards are in on it, so they’re not talking.” He stamped a shiny boot on the floor. “Bastards. All of them.”

Corvo’s hopes sank even lower. “No family? Friends who might…?”

Armando shook his head. “No. Just me. My parents are long dead. My brothers too. They died in a mining accident. This was before Stilton had the district under control. People dying in the mines was a lot more common.” The silence stretched on awkwardly until he asked, “You?”

Corvo lifted a brow. “I’m already dead, remember?” Armando huffed a laugh. “But yes, there are… people who’ll know I’m gone. But the question is will they be able to get here?”

The sound of spinning gears cut through the stillness of the vault. Corvo and Armando both leapt to their feet. The tumblers in the vault door were spinning! It was opening! Corvo shoved the double behind him and drew his sword. Perhaps Delilah sent people to finish them off after a day without provisions.

But when the door swung open Corvo breathed a sigh of relief so heavy he nearly dropped to his knees.

“Cecelia. Meagan. I am so glad you…” Corvo trailed off, confused. “Wait. How do you have a key?”

“Jindosh designed the vault,” Cecelia chimed in. “Turns out he kept spare copies of the keys in his house that the Duke didn’t know about.” She traced a scuffed shoe over the pristine floors. “I had to break back into his mansion again. But don’t worry, Hypatia and Sokolov are watching Jindosh. And he’s scared shitless of Hypatia, so he won’t try anything.”

Meagan glanced around Corvo at the body double cowering behind him. “Get locked in your own vault, Duke Abele?” she said with a feral grin. For a moment Corvo thought she was going to attack the poor man, and he held out his arms for peace.

“Wrong Duke,” Corvo corrected her. He grabbed Armando’s shoulder and eased him forward. “This is Luca Abele’s body double. He was set up for a slow death along with me.”

“Then they’re already gone?” Meagan asked.

Corvo marched to for the door, focused and determined. “They have at least a day and half of a head start on us. We need to get the Wale fueled and ready.”

“Corvo, wait!” Meagan called out. “Where are we going?”

“To Dunwall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Head canons about [Corvo's dark side.](https://soontobecyborg.tumblr.com/post/153835551458/more-head-canons-low-chaos-corvos-dark-side-and)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where the non-consensual touching happens. Nothing super graphic, but better tag than sorry.

Corvo rose from his rope-strung cot, groggy and aching.

They’d been at sea for over a week now and even though the Dreadful Wale was making good time, they were still days away from Dunwall. The ship was built for cargo, not speed. Corvo could only hope that they weren’t too late to stop whatever Delilah was planning.

They left Karnaca in a hurry. He’d barely had time to leave a message for Alma about what happened. And still, as much as they pushed the engines, he knew they were a few steps behind Delilah.

It seemed he always was.

Corvo swung his legs over the edge of the bed and held his head in his hands. It felt like he’d just gone to sleep but he couldn’t figure out what had woken him up. Corvo rose to his feet and was immediately hit with sense of something off. The ship should have been swaying with the waves on the open sea, but he balanced effortlessly on a floor that was too still. Had they run aground? The door to his room wouldn’t budge and Corvo banged on the hatch.

“Meagan!” he called out. “Foster! What’s happened?”

A sudden chill at his bare back caused the hairs on his arms to stand on end. Slowly, Corvo turned to face the source. He paced the few steps out of his small quarters and into the Void.

Clad only in loose sleeping pants, Corvo wrapped his arms around his upper body for warmth. The Void was even colder than it had been the last time, and he was not dressed for it. But it wasn’t only the cold that made his body shiver. Corvo was being watched. He could feel it.

The stone was smooth under the soles of his feet as he proceeded in the direction of the strange presence. Corvo ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair as he approached an arched formation of rock. The Outsider was close, he could feel it. Corvo broke into a jog with his heart in his throat. But when he rounded the corner, he slid to a halt.

He stood in a recreation of Emily’s throne room!

“The Royal Protector,” a voice crooned in the darkness.

Corvo’s excitement evaporated. “Delilah,” he growled.

The witch materialized on the throne— his daughter’s throne— and threw her head back in a laugh. “Surprised to see me?” She rose and sauntered down the steps. “You didn’t realize that I could draw you into this place.”

His heart pounded in his chest at the implication. “Where is the Outsider?” Corvo demanded. “What have you done to him?”

She raised a finger to her lips in a shushing motion. “Now now, don’t draw too much attention to yourself. He might hear you if you cause a ruckus.” She paced around him in a circle, eyes raking over his half naked body. “And we have some things to discuss privately.”

Corvo flexed his left hand and felt the magic of the Void course through him. “I’m not discussing anything with you,” he snarled.

But before he could use his powers, something gripped at his feet! Corvo stared in horror as thick chunks of stone grew upwards like crystals and locked into place around his legs, and encased his hands behind his back. He strained against their hold but the more he fought, the tighter they encased him.

“Oh my. What a sight you make like this.” Delilah’s grin was all teeth. “The Outsider has good taste.” She trailed a hand down Corvo’s thigh. “Perhaps when it’s time for me to take my place here, you could watch as I disperse him into the Void. I wonder if it would feel like losing sweet Jessamine all over again.”

Corvo furrowed his brows.

“Ah, but you don’t remember,” she teased. “You don’t know how much you mean to him, nor how much he meant to you.”

“What— what’re you saying?”

“Stings, doesn’t it?” She whipped around to face the throne. “That he thought ignorance was the only way to keep you safe.” She flipped a hand in the air. “And maybe it was. You did stay out of my way the last seven years. And the Outsider kept me busy enough that I had other concerns.”

Delilah sneered. “That two-faced hypocrite. I’m not going to let him ruin my plans again!” She hissed at the darkened Void. “He told me the power was mine to do with as I pleased.” She threw her hands up. “Lies!”

She paced back and forth. “He knew what I wanted. He knew that one day I’d have what belonged to me. But when I made arrangements to take the throne that I was owed…” She stopped and faced Corvo. “He sent Daud to kill me.”

Corvo flinched. Just hearing that man’s name made him want to retch but he swallowed down the hatred. “Maybe I’ll have better luck getting death to stick to you, Delilah. Release me and we’ll give it a shot.”

Delilah smiled. “What did the Outsider tell you about me?”

“I know enough. I know you’re a narcissist who wants to steal a throne from its rightful ruler and then become a god.”

Delilah lunged at him. “I am the rightful Empress of the Isles! It was promised to me by my father… Euhorn Kaldwin.”

There was a snappy barb on the end of Corvo’s tongue when he was suddenly struck by something familiar: the point of her chin, the slope of her forehead, the color of her eyes— blue like a calm sea. The comment died on his lips.

There had been rumors about the Emperor’s infidelity to his wife before Jessamine’s birth. Corvo couldn’t even say they were false rumors. Most among the nobility had affairs at one time or another. But did Euhorn Kaldwin really sire another child?

Corvo averted his eyes for an instant. If the late Emperor Kaldwin had another child, then there’s no way Jessamine knew about it. She would have told him.

Delilah grinned in triumph. “You see it too, don’t you?”

Corvo snarled. “Anyone could make that claim. You have no proof. And even if you did, it changes nothing!”

“It changes everything!” She grabbed him by the hair, nails digging into his scalp and baring his neck. “I would have been next in line for the throne after Jessamine’s death.”

Corvo twisted his head out of her grip. “Even if that’s true, you were never legitimized. You have no claim.”

“Ah, but laws are just words scribbled on paper. They’re only powerful if they’re enforced. And I’m not sure anyone will want to enforce laws that keep a power-mad villain like Emily Kaldwin on the the throne. Why, she had someone killed simply for speaking his mind! Sent her father to kill a man who was guilty of nothing more than penning a few opinion pieces.”

Delilah raised a hand to cover mouth in faux-shock. “Who does something like that? How can I— a concerned citizen with Kaldwin blood— sit back and watch as a tyrant orders murders?”

So that’s how she was going to play it then.

“I was hoping to be the woman who captured and brought you to justice. I used a divining ritual to figure out where you were staying in Karnaca. But you slipped away from the Grand Guard.” Delilah sighed dramatically. “I tried divining your location again and again after you escaped their raid, but… nothing! Alex lured you to her lair but you foiled that plan as well. How tiresome.”

She narrowed her eyes. “There’s some kind of interference around you. I can reach out but I can’t _see_ where you are in the world.” She circled him, fingers trailing along his back. “Like my eyes just slide past you.”

Like her eyes slid past him? A grin spread across his face. It must have to do with Cecelia. Before the raid she’d kept her distance. But after he was run out of his rented room, Cecelia followed him around Karnaca on his missions. And now on the Dreadful Wale, they were constantly in close proximity to one another.

Delilah thumbed his lower lip. “Is the Outsider hiding you from me? Or are _you_ working magic of your own now, Corvo?”

Corvo quirked a smile but remained silent.

“Well aren’t you just full of surprises?” She huffed in amusement. “I should be annoyed with you, but perhaps this will make things a bit more interesting.”

She ran a hand down his bare chest, scratching with her fingernails along his abdomen hard enough to leave angry red marks.

Corvo hissed at the sting. “Did you just pull me here to grope me and give a big speech?”

“To give you a warning.” She flattened her palms on his stomach and traced the scars there. Corvo’s abdominals twitched at the unwelcome touch. “You can’t save him. But you can still save Emily.”

Corvo froze. That got his attention.

“I have nothing against the girl and I don’t _have_ to kill her to take her throne. But I will kill you both if you force my hand. So, consider this.” She twirled a finger around a short strand of his hair and tugged. “Convince Emily to renounce her claim to the throne and acknowledge me as the rightful heir. She’ll have to live in exile, of course, but she will be alive.”

Her hand ventured towards Corvo’s waistband and he tried to twist away as she inched the pants lower on his hips. “You won’t get to go with her, I’m afraid. I’ll need to to keep a closer eye on you.” She ran a thumb experimentally over one of his nipples and hummed low when Corvo flinched. “You’re certainly in fine shape for your age. I’m sure I can find some use for you, hmm?”

Her eyes flashed black. “Just let me take what belongs to me and your lives will be spared.”

“Never! Even if I believed your offer– and I don’t– what kind of world would you make?”

“So you’d rather let your daughter die than live under my rule?” Delilah shrugged and pulled away. “Have it your way. But know that I gave you a chance.”

She turned to walk away and Corvo snapped. “What’s your endgame, Delilah? The Empire or the Void? You can’t possibly have it both ways.”

She spun around and hissed in his face. “Just watch me. With enough power I can have it all.”

“Spoken like someone who knows the thrill of power but not the weight of responsibility.”

“On the contrary, this is a responsibility I take very seriously. The Void is unstable without an avatar.” She slapped a hand to her chest in an imitation of sincerity. “Once I have my throne, I’ll return to this place fully, and give the Void what it needs. It would be _irresponsible_ for me not to.”

“The Empire already has its rightful Empress,” Corvo spat. “And the Void already has an avatar.”

Delilah paused and a smile twisted around her lips. “Does it?” She waved her gloved hand to the swirling chaos in the distance. “Why do you think it’s changed so?”

“You did that when the ritual at Stilton’s pulled you free,” Corvo said through gritted teeth. But his voice wavered. After all, there was a lot the Outsider hadn’t told him about the mysterious circumstances that altered the Void.

Delilah raised a brow. “Did he tell you that? Or did you assume?” She leaned over Corvo, pressing her chest to his. Her lips were a hair’s breath from his face and she whispered, “Did he let you assume he was still a god?”

Corvo’s eyes widened.

She tutted a sound of disappointment. “What a little liar he is.” She flicked out her tongue and traced the shell of his ear.

Delilah whispered, “Wake up.”

* * *

Corvo snapped awake and threw back the thin blanket. He stormed over to the sink and splashed water on his face as if he could wash away the feeling of Delilah’s touch on his body.

Just how powerful was Delilah now? She’d pulled him into the Void through his dreams! And how weak was the Outsider that he hadn’t been able to do it at all outside of Stilton’s manor?

Delilah’s words echoed in his mind. _“Did he let you assume he was still a god?”_

Corvo gripped the sides of the sink and watched the water circle the drain. If the Outsider wasn’t a god anymore, then what was he?

He pulled a shirt on and shimmied into some proper pants. Everyone was gathered in the cargo hold, sharing breakfast in companionable silence. Armando and Cecelia sipped on strong tea while Hypatia studied some documents. Jindosh was still locked in the storage room. He presumed Meagan was at the helm. Things on the Dreadful Wale were getting crowded.

Sokolov was there too. They hadn’t spoken much since Corvo’s outburst last week. The old man had his back to them and was working on a painting. It took a moment to focus on the canvas in the dim light, but Corvo froze in his tracks when he saw the subject.

A portrait of the Outsider hung on the easel and looked to be mostly complete. But an important detail was off. Instead of eyes as black as the ocean depths, Sokolov had painted the god’s eyes a shade of pale green.

It wasn’t until Corvo took a deep breath and the blurriness cleared from his eyes that he realized he’d been holding his breath for a length of time. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the portrait as the throbbing in the back of his skull began to radiate forward. Another damned headache.

There was something coy in the Outsider’s gaze as he stared out from the frame. His smile was shy, with just a hint of mischief, as he toyed with one of his rings. It was intimate, almost as if the Outsider was staring fondly at the viewer but trying to hide the familiarity of his gaze. Corvo had never seen the Outsider look this way– soft.

Green eyes. That was no coincidence.

“Sokolov, who is that?”

Sokolov spun around from his work. “I— well, I’m not entirely certain.” He laughed nervously and rubbed his chin. “My memory isn’t what it used to be. But I’m trying to stay sharp, so I paint whatever comes to mind. Mostly portraits nowadays– half-remembered and reimagined faces from the past.” Sokolov looked at Corvo, curious. “Why do you ask? Is he familiar?”

Corvo’s voice was rough when he answered. “Yes. But I can’t recall his name.”

Sokolov shrugged. “Neither do I. He was a servant who came and went at the Tower, I think.” He chuckled to himself. “I just sat down and started painting to see what would come to me, and before I knew it…” He waved to the portrait.

Corvo stared at the Outsider’s face and felt his throat constrict.

He tore his gaze away. It was harder than he liked to admit and Corvo didn’t understand why. But as he did, he caught Cecelia staring at him. Her brows were creased with worry. When she noticed him making eye contact, she returned her focus to her breakfast.

Corvo bit the inside of his cheek. Interesting.

He pulled Cecelia aside after breakfast and motioned for her to follow him. He wanted to go somewhere they wouldn’t be overheard, so he led her down to the engine room.

Cecelia leaned against the bulkhead. “What’s wrong, Corvo?”

“You visit the shrines, don’t you? You talk to the Outsider?”

Cecelia went still. “A few times. I—” She hesitated, and appeared to consider her words carefully. “I don’t have my own shrine or anything. It’s not like I’m one of those people who… you know…”

Corvo held his hands up in a gesture of peace. “I didn’t think you were. I wasn’t accusing. I was just wondering…” He ran his tongue along the ridges of his molars as he figured out how to ask. Cecelia knew something she wasn’t telling him. “Why do you think the Outsider chose you to follow me here?”

“Because of my ability, I assume.”

Corvo rubbed a crick in the back of his neck.“You said you saw things in the Void. A black sky and witches roaming Dunwall? Things that are going to happen?”

Cecelia nodded. “It isn’t necessarily going to happen. But it could.” She shuddered. “It will if she gets her way.”

“She’s closer than we thought to accomplishing her goals.” He rubbed the sides of his head. “I just woke up from the least pleasant visit to the Void I’ve ever experienced.”

Cecelia gasped. “He pulled you in?”

“No. He didn’t. _Delilah_ did.”

Cecelia raised a hand to her mouth. “Are we too late?”

Corvo ran a thumb along the Mark on his hand, tracing its pattern absently as he tried to make sense of things. “No. But he’s weak. Delilah gloated and she… she said some things I didn’t understand.”

He watched Cecelia’s face very carefully as he continued. “I’ve never worshipped him. I never asked for this Mark and until all of this happened, I hadn’t spoken to the Outsider since before Emily’s coronation. So, I’m not sure why Delilah said that his death would make me feel like losing Jessamine all over again.”

Cecelia paled.

“Cecelia?” He stepped towards her, careful to keep his body language non-threatening. “Why does Delilah seem to think the he and I…”

“I don’t know,” she said, a bit too quiet.

“You didn’t let me finish.” But her denial was answer enough. “She seems to think that the Outsider and I were lovers. But that isn’t possible.”

Cecelia looked at her feet.

Corvo’s heart thudded behind his ribs and his vision narrowed. “Cecelia?”

Her voice was barely audible above the machinery. “You don’t remember. No one does. No one but me.”

“I don’t remember what?” Corvo kept his breathing steady and feet planted wide against the waves of uncertainty.

“You don’t remember… him.”

“The Outsider?”

“Ceòl.” Cecelia lifted her eyes to his. “His name was Ceòl.”


	19. Chapter 19

Corvo sagged against the cold steel of the hull as Cecelia replayed the strange story. It was outlandish— the Outsider made human and flung from the Void. And yet, Corvo believed every word. The moment Cecelia said that name, he knew it was real.

“Ceòl,” he whispered to himself. He wanted to hear it, to taste the name on his tongue. He knew that name. Corvo felt it in his bones as deeply as the stabbing pain in his skull.

“I don’t know the details but he definitely didn’t leave the Void by choice.” Cecelia hung her head. “I got the feeling he didn’t even realize where was at first. He looked so scared, shivering and naked. He had to wear a pair of my pants and some of Wallace’s shirts before he could go outdoors.” She chuckled to herself.

“Samuel took him across the river and then we didn’t hear much more about it for weeks. There were a few vague rumors about Lady Emily having a new tutor. One of the bar regulars had a wife who worked in the Tower kitchens, and she thought you were spending a lot of time with the new tutor. There was some speculation about why.” She cleared her throat. “Then, the trial happened. Lady Emily swooped in and–”

“The… trial?” Corvo shook his head. “What trial?”

“It was the talk of the city. The Royal Protector accused of heresy. Accused of… other things too.”

“What other things?”

“I only know the rumors. And rumors are–”

Corvo soured. “Tell me Cecelia.”

“For violating the sixth stricture. With Ceòl.” She blushed. “But there was no proof of anything and they had to let you go when Emily brought the City Watch. I heard there was quite the kerfuffle in Holger Square.”

“How was there no proof of heresy?” Corvo flexed his left hand. The Mark glowed underneath the wrapping.

“When Emily brought you to the Hound Pits to recover from your ordeal…” She pointed to his hand. “You didn’t have that.”

Corvo stared wide-eyed. “Didn’t have it? At all?”

She shook her head. “Your hand was blank. You were singing with the whales from whatever they gave you, but even drugged you didn’t confess to the charges.” She shrugged. “I guess they had to drop it.”

“Anyway. A few months later, I mentioned wanting to get my pants from wherever they ended up at Tower, but Samuel had no idea what I was talking about. He didn’t remember the naked man in the attic, or your trial or any of it. No one did.” She picked at one of the patches on the elbow of her jacket. “No one except for me.”

Corvo’s stomach rolled as the sheer magnitude of that implication washed over him. No one remembered? To perform magic that powerful on so many people…

“Why you?” Corvo asked. “Why didn’t you forget?”

“I think it’s because of the trick I can do. It has other effects.” She leaned back against the insulated boiler. “That’s when he made an appearance at the shrine in the attic. The one you built.”

“The one I–” Corvo balked. “Something else I don’t remember?”

Cecelia nodded. “He said that when he tried to bury my memories of him it didn’t work. So he warned me to keep my mouth shut.” She gulped. “So I did. And for years, things were normal. Quiet even. I thought whatever had happened to him, or the Void, had been fixed. But now…”

Corvo clenched his jaw and he inhaled through his nose. “Why did he make everyone forget? What did he do that he wanted to hide from me?”

Delilah’s words rang in his ears. _“You did stay out of my way the last seven years, so I wasn’t forced to kill you.”_

“He said it was to keep you safe,” Cecelia mumbled. She rubbed the back of her neck. “I guess things didn’t go according to plan.”

Corvo snorted. “That’s probably an understatement.”

But something about this didn’t make sense. “So if he did all of this to keep me safe from Delilah, why not give me back those memories once she escaped the Void?”

Of course, if the Outsider wasn’t even a god anymore– as Delilah claimed– it could be that he was unable to undo his magic. Not unwilling.

Corvo’s eyes widened. After he’d given Corvo the timepiece at Stilton’s manor, the Outsider did tried to perform some kind of magic. And failed.

_~~~~~~~~_

_The Outsider wrapped a hand around the back of Corvo’s head. His skin tingled with the sensation of those long fingers in his hair. But the Outsider didn’t make a move to do anything. He simply stared at Corvo with tense features; expectant._

_The air around him pulsed with sounds from the Void. Corvo felt a tickle in the back of his mind– like a sneeze that builds and builds but never comes._

_As suddenly as it began, the strange feeling fizzled away. The Outsider’s expectant gaze shuttered behind a mask of idle curiosity._

_Corvo sagged. “What were you doing?” he asked, his voice more a whisper than he’d intended._

_“I was trying to give you something.” The Outsider shrugged and quirked a false smile. “It didn’t work.”_

~~~~~~~~

Corvo stared at the floor for a moment. “Were the rumors true? Was I involved with him?”

“Probably.” Cecelia smiled sadly. “He seemed very fond of you. And Emily trusted him enough to leave you in his care while you were recovering from the drugs.”

Corvo thought about that. “A servant who came and went in the Tower,” he whispered to himself. The painting of the Outsider with green eyes made sense now. Sokolov’s mind was getting soggy in his old age. Perhaps those buried memories were surfacing regardless of whatever magic the Outsider imposed on him.

Corvo put his head in his hands and pressed against his eyes. He took a few deep breaths to try and dull the pain. “If this is true, if he spent time as a human in Dunwall, then how did he get back to the Void?”

Cecelia shrugged. “I don’t know. The last I saw of him– the last I saw of him as a human, anyway– was in the attic attending to you. The next day you were both gone. You, back to the Tower and Ceòl… back to the Void apparently.”

Corvo might not have the memories any longer, but whatever happened seven years ago had to have been Delilah’s doing. She implied as much, didn’t she? Had she cast the Outsider from the Void? And if so, how did he get back there to become… whatever he was now?

He patted Cecelia on the shoulder. “Thank you for telling me.”

They had a few more days before they reached Dunwall and he wasn’t going to get any answers until then. He needed to focus on what he was going to do once they arrived. He had to get to Emily and warn her.

Corvo hoped he wasn’t already too late.

* * *

Emily’s lower back was sore from sitting on the throne all day.

Once a month she “held court” at Dunwall Tower. The practice was a throwback to the days before unification. The present-day Empire of Isles was a constitutional monarchy but the these old practices still had more than ceremonial importance. Corvo drilled into her repeatedly over the years that holding court was less about addressing complaints of the nobility and more about proving herself to them.

“These are the days they will judge you as much as you judge them,” he warned her.

She wished Corvo was here. Things didn’t feel right without him at her back. Alexi stood in his place, a steady and attentive presence just on the edge of Emily’s peripheral vision. It felt right having Alexi at her side, but for entirely different reasons.

Both High Overseer Khulan and Vice Overseer Byrne were present in the crowd. Emily didn’t mind their presence, but it was odd. Before she came of age, Khulan used to attend every one of these at her side as a show of support. But Khulan hadn’t felt the need to attend the Empress’ Court in over a year unless there was some matter of business that concerned the Abbey. So far, the normal petty squabbles had taken up Emily’s day: land deals gone bad, arguments over debts, proposals for new legislation that hadn’t gained popularity through the usual channels. Nothing that concerned the Abbey had come up and yet both of its highest ranking officials were still here.

Something was going on.

Emily inhaled through her nose and released it slowly for a few seconds. There was only one more person on the list for today. After this last petitioner she could retire to her rooms.

Emily rose from her throne and held her hands out, palms up, to call for silence. The chattering of the gathered nobles tapered off and she forced a smile, hopeful her apprehension didn’t show.

She turned to Captain Ramsey. “Send in the last petitioner, Captain.”

There was something in his smile when he said “gladly” that set Emily’s teeth on edge.

The doors to the throne room swung open and Emily took her seat. The woman who sauntered down the plush carpet wasn’t familiar, but she held her arms out to Emily as if she were expecting a warm welcome.

“May I present, Delilah Copperspoon,” Ramsey called out.

“Copperspoon?” Emily whispered to herself. That was a surname used by the lower classes. It was incredibly rare for someone low-born to get through the barristers and applications processes required for an audience with the Empress. And yet, this woman didn’t carry herself like someone accustomed to anything but the best. She wore finely tailored clothing adorned with roses around the collar and polished boots. She held her head high and met Emily’s eyes in challenge rather than respectfully lower her gaze.

Something about this wasn’t right. Alexi must have felt it too because she took a step forward to stand just at Emily’s side.

“I am pleased to receive you, Ms. Copperspoon.” Emily tried to keep her face neutral. “You may state your business for the court.” 

“I am here to seek justice for the attempt on my life,” she declared.

The assembled nobles began murmuring amongst themselves in hushed whispers but Emily held up her hands for silence. “There was an attempt on your life?”

The woman nodded and did a terrible job of feigning emotion as she wiped the corners of her eyes.

“I’m terribly sorry, and I’ll help in any way I can. But is there some reason you didn’t take this up with the City Watch?” Emily motioned to Captain Ramsey. “Typically, you’d call the authorities for something like that, not wait for an audience with the Empress.”

The woman barely contained her smile. “I couldn’t trust the usual authorities to apprehend the man who tried to kill me.”

Emily frowned and cast a glance to Ramsey. She expected him to be frothing at the mouth over a statement like that. Instead, he stood at attention with a satisfied expression. Alarms rang in Emily’s mind and from the corner of her eye she saw Alexi’s hand fall to the hilt of her sword.

“Ms. Copperspoon, the City Watch are highly trained and capable soldiers.”

“It’s not their competence I question, but their authority to arrest the person responsible.” Delilah half-turned to face the crowd and her voice carried with practiced projection. “A masked killer has been terrorizing Karnaca and targeting people who dare to question Her Majesty!” She waved her arms dramatically to the room. “Two Gristolian nobles have died in Serkonos recently. Correy Brockburn ‘fell’ from his yacht and drowned. It was rumored that he had anti-Imperial leanings. Then Horatio Weatherby was gruesomely murdered! We’ve all read his scathing opinion pieces in the Dunwall Courier. A barely a week after that…”

Emily shoved up from her throne and stepped forward. “Just what are you saying?”

Delilah pretend to swoon. “I was in my art studio when her assassin attacked me! He wore a mask like a skull and appeared out of thin air!”

Emily’s stomach sank. It was possible that Corvo had investigated these men, but he wouldn’t murder them. He wanted to collect evidence and bring them to justice.

“ _My_ assassin? Are you seriously accusing me of–” The crowd was in an uproar now, some leaping to Emily’s defense, other whispering delightedly at the scandal.

“His hand glowed in a way I can’t even explain and a swarm of rats appeared. I screamed and jumped on top of a table. If Luca’s guards hadn’t been posted outside my rooms, I would have been eaten alive! The guards defended me but before they could bring him down… he vanished again!”

Khulan and Byrne were on their feet in an instant, eyes wide.

Now Emily knew for certain this mystery woman was lying. “Summoning rats? Appearing out of thin air? You expect anyone with a rational mind to believe a story like that?”

But the Overseers weren’t laughing. Half the nobles in the room were tittering behind their fans. This was bad.

“You say his hand glowed?” Vice Overseer Byrne asked. “Was there a mark of some sort?”

“I– I don’t know,” Delilah said. “His hand was covered. But underneath the cloth, something glowed. I remember that.”

“Oh, not these old rumors again,” Emily huffed. She’d tolerated more than enough “concerned inquiries” from the Abbey over the years about why her father still wore a mourning wrap over his hand for Empress Jessamine.

“So you deny it?” Delilah cried. “You deny you sent your heretic assassin father to kill me?”

Emily strode to the edge of the dais and stood over Delilah. “I absolutely deny it. I would never order a killing, much less of the people you listed. I may have hated Weatherby’s editorials, but they’re ignorant nonsense unworthy of my time. As for Brockburn, I know what he was rumored to be involved in. I also know that ‘the Regenters’ haven’t done more than bicker amongst themselves in years. He wasn’t a threat to me. Not anymore.”

Or so Emily hoped.

She had no idea what her father had uncovered in Karnaca and it wasn’t impossible that he’d found incriminating evidence against these men. But he would never kill them outright. Would he?

This raised another question. If these were some of the people plotting against her, then who was this strange woman?

“And even if these men did represent some threat to me, as you seem you be claiming here today,” Emily said to the crowd, “that doesn’t answer the question of why _you_ would be among them. What have you done to warrant this supposed assassination attempt?”

Something in Delilah’s eyes lit up and Emily knew she’d talked herself into a trap.

“Oh, Emily. We’re beyond pretenses now, aren’t we? Are you going to pretend not to know who I am?”

“I have never seen you before in my life!” Emily crossed her arms and stuck out her chin, a habit from childhood.

Alexi stepped in front of her, as if to shield Emily from the excited room of people. “If you’ve only come here to make false accusations and spread lies, Ms. Copperspoon–”

“That’s Kaldwin to you, girl!” Delilah snapped.

A hush fell over the crowd.

“My name is Delilah Kaldwin. My father was Euhorn Kaldwin and Jessamine was my younger half-sister.”

The blood drained from Emily’s face. These were lies. They had to be.

Delilah continued, her face to the crowd. “Jessamine had first claim to the throne because I was born out of wedlock. But so was the girl who sits there now. And by law, I would have a stronger claim than she does.” She sighed and placed a hand over her heart. “Still, I stepped aside. I was content to live my own life. My niece has known about me for years and I thought we had an understanding: that I am no threat to her. But she’s young, insecure, and acts rashly.”

Delilah paced dramatically in front of the room. “After the first two murders, I was no fool. I knew she was coming for me. My patron, Duke Abele, arranged for my protection. And thank the stars that he did!”

From among the gathered guests, a figure stepped forward. Luca Abele, Duke of Serkonos for the last two years, bowed his head mockingly. The pieces were coming together now. They knew from Stilton’s note that Abele was part of a conspiracy. But this Delilah person was new to Emily.

What had her father uncovered in Karnaca? And why hadn’t he come to warn her that they were going to confront her with these lies? The obvious answer was one she couldn’t bear to think about.

Delilah turned to a stunned Emily. “I wasn’t going to make a move for your throne, child. But I can’t sit idly by while you become a mad tyrant either. And since I knew the Grand Guard didn’t have the authority to confront you, I’m doing it in public where I hope there will be enough witnesses to ensure my safety.”

Emily felt as if the air was punched out of her. “To ensure _your_ safety?”

“I can’t help but notice the one revelation you _haven’t_ been shocked by, Empress.” High Overseer Khulan stepped forward from the rest of the crowd. “When your accuser claimed your father tried to kill her, I expected your response to those accusations to be the most obvious one: that your father is dead, therefore he couldn’t possibly be the man responsible. And yet, that wasn’t your reply.” Khulan crossed his arms. “I thought your father was killed in a shipwreck. There was a search. A funeral.”

Byrne stepped forward. “The oracles were right, High Overseer. Attano lives and he collaborates with dark forces.”

“Oracles?” Emily looked Khulan in the eyes. “There were more prophecies about my father?”

Khulan nodded solemnly. “After the one we showed you, there were others. Your reaction to the first vision was… not what we were expecting. I grew suspicious that your father was alive, and that you knew. Then there were other visions. The Oracles couldn’t see him clearly, or tell us where he was precisely. But they were certain that the man in the skull mask was alive. And they predicted that we would be needed here today.”

Emily was losing control of the situation. Alexi’s face was pinched, like she wanted to lash out but didn’t dare without orders. But Emily had no idea what orders to give. She could only deny the accusations so much before her obstinance made her look guilty. If she had Delilah arrested, it would make her look guilty. And now the High Overseer himself was questioning her about things she couldn’t answer in public.

Not long after her coronation, Emily started having nightmares. The people needed her to lead a nation struggling to regain its footing after the plague. She dreamed about sitting on her throne in front of an expectant crowd waiting to hear her words of wisdom. But when she opened her mouth to speak, no sound came out and the crowd began to boo and laugh.

But this was not a childhood nightmare. Emily Kaldwin, Empress of the Isles, was fully awake as she stood speechless in front of a shocked court. Years of practice at schooling her emotions in public was the only thing keeping her from breaking down and crying for her father.

If he were here, he’d know what to do.

* * *

The Dreadful Wale barely had time to dock before Corvo was changed into his uniform and making his way to the skiff.

“Corvo, wait!” Meagan called out. “Do you have a plan? Or are you just going to run straight to the Tower and start screaming about witches and plots?”

“I’m the Royal Protector–”

“The _dead_ Royal Protector,” she corrected. “You’ll have a lot of explaining to do to an understandably confused– possibly even angry– City Watch before you can get through to Emily. And once you do, then what? Delilah had a head start in a much faster ship than the Wale. She’s probably been here for days and we have no idea where she is. We need to think. You can’t just–“

“My daughter is in trouble!” Corvo clenched his fists at his sides. “I’m done taking it slow and gathering intelligence. There’s no time to waste.”

“At least take Cecelia with you! She could scout ahead!”

It was temping. She could scout the Tower in secret. See if things were quiet or if Delilah was already starting her coup. He sighed. “That’s not a bad idea. I’ll go get–“

“Already here.”

Both Corvo and Meagan jumped at the sound of an unexpected voice. A grinning Cecelia was already seated in the skiff. “I was coming along whether you realized it or not.” She leaned back, waiting patiently.

Meagan shook her head. “Do you even know what you’re going tell people?” she whispered. “It’ll sound outrageous to anyone who hasn’t seen what you have.”

“Emily will believe me.”

“You’ll need to convince more than just her. We have three people on board who can testify to–”

“Two people,” Corvo corrected. “Jindosh and Armando can testify about what they know. Hypatia…” His shoulders fell. “She’s been through enough. There’s no way to prove that it was the serum that made her do what she did. I won’t risk her going to jail for murder.”

Meagan smiled softly. “Still, she wants to make things right.”

“She will. In time. But she needs to be free in order to do that.” Corvo lowered the skiff into the water, then turned back to Meagan. “If I walk into a trap today, I need you to keep them safe. People need to know what Delilah did, and what she’s planning. They need to know she’s a witch and just how dangerous she is. So keep yourself safe, too. If the coup is already in progress…”

“Then you’ll need backup.” Meagan stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Cecelia isn’t a fighter.”

Corvo stilled. “And you are?” Not that he didn’t already know. Meagan had plenty of tells in her movements. But she’d never admitted to anything before.

And she didn’t now.

“What I need,” Corvo said, “is for you be ready to take off if there’s any sign of trouble. You’re the only ones who’ll know the truth if something happens to me.”

“Us and Stilton,” Meagan said. “I got word to him about what was happening just before we left. But there was no time to wait for his response.” She twisted her hands in her pockets. “If something happens to the lot of us, there’s a chance he can rally people behind him. He has the influence and the money. And if it comes to it, the proof of what Delilah is capable of is there in his house, playing over and over. Granted, it’s just as likely to get him executed as it is her. But you should know that, if it comes down to it, Stilton’s willing to go on record with proof of Delilah’s heresy.”

Corvo rubbed the sides of his head. “I was in such a hurry to go after Delilah, I forgot to notify Stilton. Thank you Meagan.”

“Relax,” Meagan said. “We’ll be fine here. Just get word to us by the end of the day if everything is alright. If I don’t hear from you by nightfall then…”

There was a pause before Meagan released a tense breath. “Corvo, about what I said before. About how working with Delilah wasn’t even the worst thing I’d ever done. If this is the last time I see you, I just want you to know…”

Corvo squeezed her shoulder. “Meagan. I don’t know your past. But I know your present. Whatever it is you did, whether it was stealing or running with a gang…”

“I wish it were that innocent.” Meagan clenched and unclenched her hands. “What I did was the worst thing you could imagine.”

Corvo went still. Murder then. He didn’t think her past had been that dark. But before she could confess her crimes to him, he silenced her with a wave of a hand. “Stop. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“Corvo, I really do.”

“Meagan,” he said, sternly. “No one can offer you redemption for the kind of crime you’re talking about. If you want to ease your conscience, your only option is to confess to the authorities. And given the situation, I need you free.”

Something shuttered behind Meagan’s eyes and she nodded. “You’re right. This isn’t the time.” Her posture straightened and for a moment she looked like a soldier standing at attention. “I’m here for you, Corvo. I’ll keep this rusty tub and all its people safe safe. Delilah won’t get her way. I promise.”

* * *

Corvo tied the skiff off at the docks on the lower end of Barrowe Street and took a deep breath. The taste of the Wrenhaven on the breeze left a familiar sour tang in the back of his throat. It was good to be back.

He and Cecelia made their up the street, hidden from the gazes of others. Corvo kept his eyes peeled for signs of trouble. But everything seemed normal enough. People were chatting idly and going about their usual business; no hushed whispers or nervous glances to indicate there had been any upset of power.

When they arrived at the Tower gates, the security line was long enough to stretch all the way down entrance ramp. Belatedly, Corvo realized that today was the first of the month. Emily would be holding court right now.

These days were a surveillance nightmare. The perfect time for a coup. He needed to check the perimeter for signs of prep work, but he also needed to know what was waiting for him in the Tower. There would be crowds of petitioners inside the throne room and an assassin could be among them.

“Cecelia,” he whispered. “Do you know the way to the throne room?”

“Elevator straight to the roof, then through the big doors.” Cecelia paused. “You want me to take a peek?”

Corvo nodded. “Quickly. If you see anything suspicious, come straight back.”

Cecelia took off towards the gate and Corvo began surveilling the area.

The gates near the rail line showed no signs of tampering to allow unauthorized men through. The few cars on the street were all passenger cars, not big enough to bring in reinforcements for a battle. Corvo adjusted his vision to check the nearby food stalls for signs of explosives or hidden caches of weapons. Nothing.

The coiled tension in his gut eased a bit. If Delilah was making a move to use force on the Tower, her people weren’t in place yet. That was good. Perhaps they had beaten her to Dunwall after all. Or she could be planning to attack somewhere else.

Corvo ran a hand over the back of his neck. He’d need to keep Emily confined to the safe room until they figured out where Delilah was hiding and what she had planned.

Confident a military assault on the Tower wasn’t imminent, Corvo waited for Cecelia to come back out with a report.

And he waited.

It felt like an eternity, but had probably only been twenty minutes. Still, that should have been long enough for Cecelia to get to the throne room and back. If it was taking her longer then…

“Corvo.”

Corvo jumped as Cecelia appeared next to him. “Report.”

Cecelia’s face was pale. “Not good. Delilah’s there and…”

“What?” Corvo looked to the throne room atop the Tower roof. His hand fell to his weapons. “How did she get past– why isn’t there any sign of fighting? Is Emily–“

Cecelia reached out to steady him. “Corvo, listen. Nothing’s happening. Yet. Delilah is… she’s waiting in line with the other petitioners.”

Corvo’s mouth hung open for a moment before he responded, “What?”

“It’s _weird_. She’s sitting politely and waiting her turn to see the Empress. She’s alone as far as I can tell. Maybe she has some people in the throne room, but I couldn’t get inside to see. I can make people ignore me, but they’ll still notice a huge door opening on its own.”

“How many people are in front of her in the queue?”

“Just one.” Cecelia shifted her weight nervously from one foot to the other. “What should we do?”

Whatever Delilah was planning, it was happening now. And Cecelia wasn’t a fighter. “Go back to the Wale. Tell Meagan.” Corvo hung his head. “Hopefully, I can end this today.”

“We still haven’t found Deliah’s effigy,” Cecelia hissed. “If you go in there and try to fight her…”

He cracked his neck and stretched his shoulders. “Go, Cecelia.” He turned away and jogged towards the gate before he could hear her reply.

Corvo pushed to the front of the line. Shouts of outrage echoed behind him as he strode to the gate, elbowing past nobles and commoners alike.

But when he got to the front, he saw there were only two guards posted at the gate. Both of them were young and green. These two wouldn’t be able to handle a pushy barrister, much less a serious threat. What was Ramsey thinking having the gate understaffed on today of all days?

The blood in Corvo’s veins turned cold. Ramsey knew better than this. The captain was many things, but he wasn’t stupid or lazy.

Corvo’s pulse pounded in his ears as he approached the nervous guards. Their wide-eyed glances to one another told him they immediately recognized his tailored clothing but not his face.

“Let me through. I have news for the Empress,” he said. He used the same no-nonsense tone he did with young recruits. He’d probably pounded one or both of these young guards into the ground in training exercises. The blonde one on the left looked familiar.

The blonde guard stood tall and opened his mouth to say something but his partner spoke first. “Now, just who do you think you are?” the other guard said, puffing out his chest. “Wearing an outfit like that when the Empress is still deep in mourning. I should have you–”

“Shut up!” the blonde guard hissed. “Look at him, Horace. Look. At. Him.”

Horace did. Then his eyes were as wide as the blonde boy’s. “B-but you were… that is… the shipwreck and…”

Corvo kept his voice low and calm, well aware of the gossipy nobles who were trying to eavesdrop on the conversation just inside the guard house. “I survived. And I have news for Her Highness. Now let me pass. Arrange an escort of you want, but I’m going through those gates.”

The guards hesitated. The blonde fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt and the the other one stared at Corvo’s face as if this were some sort of elaborate trick. He didn’t blame them. But Corvo didn’t have time for their uncertainty.

“Gentlemen. Move.” He formed a wedge with his hands and pushed the two guards apart.

The blonde waved his friend back. “Stay at the gate. I’ll escort him!” he called, and hurried to keep up with Corvo. The young man’s legs were short and he quickened his pace to keep up. “Lord Protector,” he whispered. “Sir. I don’t understand. It’s been months. Lady Emily was a inconsolable when she thought you were– well, she’ll be so relieved you’re alive! But where were you? How did you survive?”

A stern glance from Corvo was all it took to shut him up. They made their way up the path to the Tower and past confused citizens. But Corvo wasted no time on them. His vision was focused into a narrow tunnel and time seemed to move in stilted bursts.

“Has there been anyone unusual in to see the Empress today? Anyone suspicious?” Corvo asked in the elevator. Had it always ascended this slowly?

“The usual nobles, sir.” He paused. “Well, there were Captain Ramsey’s guests. But, they sort of seemed like the usual nobles too, unless you think being even snobbier than average is unusual.”

“Who and how many?” How many witches or Grand Guardsmen was he going to have to carve his way through?

“The Duke of Serkonos, sir. And a woman who was here to petition.” The young guard swallowed nervously. “Captain Ramsey cleared them personally.”

“I’ll bet he did,” Corvo growled.

His hand fell to his sword as they approached the throne room doors. There were no guards posted outside! And the petitioners line was empty! Corvo could hear dozens of voices, all shouting over each other from within the throne room.

The blonde guard gulped. “Sir?”

Corvo put his ear to the door and listened carefully. There was some sort of argument but no combat.

“Stay here,” Corvo commanded. No point in getting this young man killed.

He pressed his palms against the dark wood and pushed.

The sight that greeted Corvo was just as chaotic as he’d imagined. Excited nobles were waving their hands and shaking their fists, some at Emily and others at a woman standing in front of the throne. As soon as the mystery woman turned her head in profile, Corvo’s worst fears were confirmed.

“Delilah.” The name left this lips on a punched-out breath. She was here! Only feet away from Emily! “Stand back! She’s a powerful witch!” Corvo charged ahead, shoving his way past the gathered people. “Guards! Arrest that woman!”

Delilah screeched and hid behind Captain Ramsey. “He’s here to finish the job!” she cried. “Someone help!”

Now the scattered nobles seemed to recognize him. “Is that who I think it is?” “It can’t be!” “Did the Empress know all along?”

Corvo snarled and drew his sword as he approached her. “Delilah Copperspoon, by the authority granted to me by the Empress of the Empire of Isles, I hereby arrest you for treas– Gah!” A wave of pain tore through him, from his toes to his scalp, and Corvo lost all power over his muscles. A stun weapon of some kind.

“Captain Ramsey, stand down!” he heard Emily command over the commotion.

It was difficult to hear Ramsey’s reply. Someone grabbed him by the hand. Corvo tried to struggle as he felt the thick wrapping on his left hand pulled away. His head rolled to the side just in time to meet High Overseer Khulan’s eyes.

“So it’s true,” Khulan whispered. “He bears the Mark of the Outsider.” He turned to Byrne and hung his head. “I shouldn’t have doubted you, brother. Forgive me.”

The last thing Corvo saw was Ramsey’s smug grin, and the sole of his boot.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so… here's what happened. I know I said this chapter wasn't going to be a cliffhanger... but this chapter was originally so long (over 9,000 words) that I didn’t finish the rewrite in time. As of Saturday at 2am I only had 3 out of 4 scenes finished. And I still needed to do a read-through. So, rather than keep you waiting, I’m posting what I have completed. The next part will go up in a few days.

Once the gossip reached the streets, it spread faster than the plague. The Empress stood accused of ordering murders and the Royal Protector had been arrested for heresy. The prison car that came careening out of the Tower’s front gates could only have been holding one person.

Cecelia held her head in her hands. Not again.

She hurried back to the skiff and piloted it as best she could back to the ship, weaving around a large yacht that had anchored in the harbor since she and Corvo were last there. The controls for the skiff were familiar enough, but the throttle was stickier than she was used to on the Amaranth and she banged the hull as she pulled alongside the Dreadful Wale.

Cecelia looked up to the lift, but another small craft had already been hoisted into the skiff’s usual spot!

She did a haphazard job of tying off on the bollard and clamored aboard. The other skiff wasn’t familiar. Her heart hammered in her chest but Cecelia kept her focus steady. If Delilah had discovered they were here and sent people to board the Wale…

There was no sign of anyone above deck and she headed below. Her feet fell softly on the steps and Cecelia grabbed a heavy wrench from the toolbox by the stairs. She paused when she heard voices coming from inside the cargo hold.

“And if something has happened? Then what?”

“We use our heads! We don’t go storming the gates!”

“How much longer do we wait?”

Cecelia recognized all the voices but one. She peered through the doorway and immediately placed the stocky man from his photograph on the planning board. Apparently the large yacht and the skiff on the lift were his. But what was Aramis Stilton doing here?

Cecelia pushed through the doors and all eyes turned to her.

Meagan’s shoulders relaxed for a moment, but her face fell as she realized Cecelia was alone. “What happened?”

Everyone argued about what to do next.

Meagan wanted to storm Coldridge— and seemed oddly confident in her chances of success.

Sokolov wanted to take the diplomatic approach. He reasoned that since Delilah hadn’t had the time to properly discredit Emily and Corvo they could rally the nobility. That strategy might help Emily secure her throne but it wouldn’t help Corvo. Not now that the Overseers had him.

Armando and Hypatia volunteered to go ashore and speak to the City Watch about what they knew. But since Corvo had been arrested so easily, they couldn’t be sure if the Watch had traitors in it or not.

Jindosh laughed from his makeshift prison the storage room. “And if you think _I’m_ saying a word against Delilah, you’re more delusional than you made me out to be.”

Meagan narrowed her eyes. “I thought you had no loyalty to Delilah.”

“I don’t. But if she comes out ahead, she’ll kill me for the betrayal. If I stay silent, I can claim I told you nothing and stayed loyal.”

“Jindosh…” Meagan warned.

But the inventor turned up his nose and looked away, petulant.

Meagan groaned and turned back to the group. “They’ll hold him for a while. As high-profile a prisoner as Corvo is, they won’t treat him like an ordinary witch. There’ll be a long interrogation. Plus, Delilah’s accusations involve both Corvo and the Empress, so there’s a good chance they keep him alive until that matter is settled.”

Stilton hummed in thought. “There will have to be some kind of hearing if Delilah is trying to go about this ‘legally’. And that gives us the option to tell people what we know! You’re right not to trust the City Watch at this point. But if I can get to the press, I can tell the people about the night of the seance–”

Meagan shook her head. “After what just happened with Corvo, the Overseers are going to be frantic. If you tell them about what happened at your manor, they won’t think twice about condemning you, Stilton. And we need you.”

Cecelia stood in the corner, listening to the back-and-forth and growing anxious. There was too much they didn’t know. What had happened in the throne room? What was happening to Corvo? How could they save him?

She slipped away from the group while everyone argued. There was one person she knew might have those answers.

* * *

The Heretic Cells at Coldridge prison were just as bad as Corvo had heard.

The cells were located in a special wing of the prison and accessible only to a select few guards and members of the Abbey. The cell block was nearly pitch black with only a few red bulbs hung along the corridors so that the guards could make their rounds. The bars were as thick as his wrist and constructed of iron, not steel like the ones in the main part of prison. The concrete cell was totally bare and hardly long enough for Corvo to lay down.

But it was the music that made the Heretic Cells truly effective. 

Corvo trembled in the corner of his cell as much from the music as he did from the cold and damp. Distantly, he wondered if the magic-nullifying noise was being piped through hidden speakers or if the darkened corners of this wing were concealing the devices themselves. He supposed it didn’t really matter. The effect was the same.

It was cold and settled into the places inside of him that should have been filled by the Void’s magic.The music felt like drowning— like gasping for breath but instead of life-sustaining air, getting a lung full of saltwater.

Corvo muffled a cry. Another blasted headache. It started at the back of his brain and clawed forward to just behind his eyes. This was the worst one yet. He wondered what memory was trying to force its way through now.

Corvo placed the palms of his hands over his eyelids and pressed, as if he could push the pain back it wherever it came from.

“Does the music hurt you, heretic?”

Corvo’s head shot up and he was met with the stern visage of the High Overseer.

“Yul.” Corvo groaned as he struggled to stand up. “It isn’t what you think. Delilah is a witch and she—”

“That’s High Overseer Khulan to you!” he spat.

The reprimand stung more that he thought it would. So much for getting any benefit of the doubt.

“Where’s Emily? What is going on? Why have I been arrested?” Corvo fired off his questions without a thought.

Khulan’s face twitched with suppressed emotion, but he answered. “Empress Emily is under house arrest in her Royal Chambers at the moment. No one is above the law and since she insists on her innocence, she’s agreed to clear her name as soon as possible. A hearing has been scheduled for the end of the week to determine the validity of the accusations against her.”

“What accusations?” Corvo pressed himself against the bars.

“That has to do with one of the reasons you’ve been arrested.” Khulan folded his arms behind his back. “Corvo Attano. You stand accused of two counts of murder and one count of attempted murder. Her Highness stands accused of ordering the killings.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

Khulan remained stoney. “The judge will determine how ridiculous it is.”

“Who do I stand accused of killing and trying to kill?” Although Corvo already had an idea.

“You stand accused of the murders of Horatio Weatherby and Corey Brockburn. The Serkonan Grand Guard ruled Brockburn’s death an accident originally, but in light of recent accusations, the case is open again. You are also accused of the attempted murder of Delilah Copp—Kaldwin. Whatever her name. She claims you tried to kill her. The Duke of Serkonos backs up her story as do a contingent of guards who were on duty.”

Khulan chewed on the inside of his cheek and cast a glance to Corvo’s hand. “Also, while you were unconscious, the Abbey charged and convicted you of high heresy. But, since your testimony will be required at the Empress’ hearing, the sentencing for that crime will have to wait until the Empress’ legal matters have been resolved. Because you have been convicted of high heresy, you’re not permitted to confer privately with either the Accused or the Accuser. We can’t risk magical contamination of either party.”

“So you convicted me of heresy with no trial, and when it comes to the murders I’m accused of, I don’t even get to participate in my own defense.” Corvo huffed and shook his head. The rights afforded to most citizens, flimsy as they were, didn’t apply at all once a person was found guilty of heresy.

“It’s all lies.” Corvo gripped the bars, shaking with rage. “I didn’t do those things.”

“I’m staring right at the Mark,” Khulan hissed. He started to step forward but held himself back.

“That…” Corvo hesitated. “I can’t explain that. I don’t know how that got there.” Corvo wanted to slap himself for stuttering out such an obvious lie and Khulan’s expression said the same. But Corvo pressed on. “Can you at least tell me what’s happening to Emily? If she’s under house arrest, who’s running the Empire?”

“She is. She hasn’t been stripped of power, just confined to where she can wield it for now. Though I assume she’s preoccupied with her defense at the moment.” Khulan pursed his lips. “But I’m not here to answer your questions. You’re here to answer mine.”

Corvo lifted his head and met the High Overseer’s furious gaze. “So, you’ll be doing the interrogation yourself?” Khulan wasn’t carrying a bag of torture tools, but the music was a good start.

Khulan took a chair from across the hall and dragged it to sit in front of the bars of Corvo’s cell. There were brightly painted lines on the floor to indicate safe distance from the bars. But Corvo had longer than average arms and he took a moment to gauge the distance— just outside of his reach. Of course.

Khulan pulled a pen and a leather-bound book from inside his jacket. “No torture,” he said, jaw set tight. “If six months at the mercy of Morris Sullivan didn’t break you twelve years ago, I certainly won’t be able to do it in less than a week.”

“I didn’t break, because I was innocent. Just like I am now.” A half-truth. He was innocent of Delilah’s accusations. The rest of it… well, he hated lying to Khulan. He was a good man. But Corvo had an empire, and a daughter, to protect.

A vein in Khulan’s forehead betrayed his anger, but he kept his voice calm. “Everything you say will be documented and submitted to the court.” Khulan spun the pen in his fingers. “There are no audiographs here. The music makes their recordings difficult to understand so we don’t bother with them in this wing. ”

Corvo scoffed. “Then what’s the point of saying anything at all? You’ll just tell the court what they want to hear.”

“Whether you believe me or not, I want to find out the _truth_ ,” Khulan said.

Corvo rolled his eyes in the dark.

“So your _official_ answer to the presence of the Outsider’s Mark— the statement I will be forced to submit to a court— is that you ‘don’t know how it got there?’”

Corvo nodded and Khulan made a disgusted noise. He wrote something down.

“Records show you didn’t have the Mark when you were imprisoned here last. So, at some point between then and now you began begging favors of the Outsider.” Khulan paused in thought. “Perhaps in order to defeat the known heretic and assassin, Daud— to avenge Empress Jessamine— you needed some assistance? Assistance only the Outsider could provide.”

“I begged no favors,” Corvo said firmly. “I didn’t ask for his assistance.”

Khulan scowled but wrote down his answers. “How long have you worshipped the Outsider?” Khulan’s voice was emotionless and professional.

Corvo sighed. “I don’t worship the Outsider.”

Khulan’s nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. When he spoke again, he was less professional. “What sinister favors has he asked of you? And what, other than the obvious, did he give in return?”

“None. And nothing.”

Khulan scowled and the mask of neutrality he’d been wearing began to break. “I wonder, Corvo. Did you laugh at me behind my back? Did you commune with him and brag about fooling the High Overseer himself?” Khulan took a shaky breath. “Did he reward you for making me look like an idiot in front of everyone who ever respected me?”

“No,” Corvo said softly.

Khulan snapped. “I trusted you!” he yelled, red in the face. “I defended you against every accusation my brothers whispered. I vouched for you personally.” Khulan went still as stone. “I _mourned_ for you.”

Corvo hung his aching head. “I do regret…” Khulan leaned forward and Corvo considered his words. “I regret lying to you about my operation in the south. Faking my death was extreme but I thought it was necessary at the time. I wasn’t sure how deep the conspiracy ran. I didn’t know who could be trusted, so I kept you out of the loop.”

Khulan jerked back in his seat as if he’d been struck. “You thought I might be conspiring against Emily?” His mouth hung open in shock for a moment. “No. These are just more lies. You’d never think that. And as for your reasons for faking your death…” He rubbed his chin. “Even if you believed there was a group working to overthrow the Empress, you’d never be foolish enough to take them on alone.”

“I overthrew a usurper by myself once before.” Corvo crossed his arms. “Or have you forgotten that?”

Khulan’s pen stopped in its path and he looked up. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten. But now the tales of your single-handed heroics make a lot more sense.”

Corvo ran a hand across his face. This wasn’t getting either of them anywhere. He needed Khulan to listen.

“Let’s speak hypothetically.”

“Hypothetically?” Khulan asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yes. The following is all strictly hypothetical.”

“Alright.” Khulan pursed his lips, then closed the notebook and placed it on the floor. “And as long as this is hypothetical, it will remain _off the record_. Continue.”

“Let’s say I am a heretic, but that it’s not by choice.” Corvo pressed his forehead into the narrow space between the bars. “Let’s say that after I escaped this place twelve years ago I was pulled into the Void very much against my will and the Outsider gave me his Mark. But I didn’t ask for it. I never wanted it. But without it–” He hesitated. “Without it I never would have been able to rescue my daughter.”

Khulan swallowed around his tight collar. “Hypothetically, of course.”

“Everything I have ever done has been for her. To protect her. And now is no different. Emily is in danger.”

Khulan rubbed his forehead. “I’m not a fool, Corvo. I know this Delilah is here to make a grab for the throne. I’m not blind to that. Her story about being ‘content to live as an artist’ while she had royal blood?” He scoffed. “So, if you were sent to Karnaca to eliminate a threat to Emily’s claim…” He frowned deeply and the red lights made the creases in his face look like jagged cracks in the stones of the Void. “Well, it’s definitely illegal, but not unheard of in the–”

“I wasn’t sent to kill her!” Corvo growled against the bars. “Damn you, I was in Karnaca to investigate. I wanted to take them all to trial for their crimes. But when I found out who their leader was— when I found out _what_ she was— I realized I needed to take another approach. But I _was_ going to gather evidence against the others and build a case.”

There was evidence on the Dreadful Wale. There were witnesses willing to corroborate everything he said. But could he trust Khulan to be impartial? And even if Khulan could be trusted, Corvo had no way to know if anyone else in the Abbey could. Delilah had gotten to Ramsey already. If she had people in the Abbey under her thumb and he exposed his friends…

No. Corvo couldn’t risk their lives. And besides, word of his arrest would have made it the papers by now. Assuming Meagan had done as he asked, the Dreadful Wale and its people would be gone by now anyway.

Corvo held his head in his hands. He needed Khulan on his side. The High Overseer was talking to him now. He was listening.

But there was some intelligence he could share safely.

“There’s a file in my office. Tell Emily you want to see the dossier. Tell her I told you about the anonymous note.” Corvo was already questioning this decision, but there was little choice now. “I laid out my investigation and Emily approved the operation. It was extreme, but legal. I knew someone was plotting a coup, gathering resources and building something. At the time, I thought the Duke was the leader of the conspiracy. But then I learned he was only a lieutenant to Delilah. I also learned that Delilah and Ashworth are constructing some sort of machine, for seeing into the Void. And when I began closing in on them…” He groaned. “She fled Karnaca and changed her approach.”

Khulan scratched his chin. “Alright. After I leave here, I’ll take a look at this dossier. But if I do, it will be admitted to the court as evidence. You do realize that.” Khulan nodded for Corvo to continue.

“Once I found out that Delilah was a witch— more powerful than any I’d ever seen— I realized putting her on trial was too risky. So, yes. I was planning to kill her. But…”

Telling Khulan the rest was a gamble. But Corvo bit the inside of his cheek and gathered the nerve. If things didn’t go his way, if he was executed after his testimony at Emily’s trial, Khulan needed to know how to kill Delilah.

“Yul, I found out she can’t be killed. She’s made herself immortal.”

Khulan went still and his eyes widened. “How?”

“There’s an effigy. After she escaped the Void–”

The High Overseer went rigid.

“Yes. I know it sounds insane, but it’s true. I saw her coalesce a body from a mass of swirling darkness in a ritual I didn’t think was possible.” Corvo omitted when and where he saw it. He’d leave Stilton out of this for now. “Once she was reborn Delilah stored her spirit inside an effigy made of bone.”

Khulan’s face was tense. “If she is a body with no spirit then–”

“Then she can’t die. You could stab her and she’d heal. She’s just a vessel that wields Void magic.”

Khulan narrowed his eyes. “So how were you going to kill her then?”

“The effigy. She put her very soul into the thing. It’s the key to destroying her. If I can…” Corvo trailed off.

He had no idea what do with it. Destroy it, presumably. Then the soul would be forced back into Delilah? Or perhaps it would be lost to the Void and Delilah’s new body would wither and die? He had no idea. The Outsider’s instructions were infuriatingly vague, as always.

“And you didn’t alert the Abbey to the presence of an immortal witch in Karnaca, of course.”

Corvo looked to his Marked hand. “For obvious reasons, I couldn’t go to the Abbey.”

The High Overseer paced the hall, muttering to himself for a few minutes. Finally, he returned to Corvo’s cell. “There are rumors about Duke Abele and Breanna Ashworth. They’re both suspected of practicing the dark arts.”

“The Abbey was investigating them?”

“Until a few months ago.” Khulan frowned deeply. “But then our sisters in the Oracular Order stopped implicating them in any wrongdoing and started…” He dragged his eyes to Corvo.

Corvo froze. The lenses! What if the Oraculum was for more than just seeing into the Void. The Oracular Order was more secretive about its practices than even the Abbey, but there were rumors. The visions the sisters had were said to be gleaned from the Void itself. What if the machine Delilah commissioned allowed her access to those visions? What if it allowed her to alter those visions?

“What did their visions say about me?”

“That’s classified.”

“Please.” Corvo pressed against the bars. “It could be important.”

Khulan thinned his lips. “Well I suppose it doesn’t matter now.” He sighed. “The visions didn’t say anything scandalous. Not at first. They never mentioned you by name but they spoke of a man in a skull mask leaving your ship by dinghy, not going down with it. Then they spoke of the same man in Karnaca, skulking around on rooftops and making plans.”

“Did they see me committing the murders I’ve been accused of?”

“No…” Khulan pursed his lips. “But they saw you performing feats of magic. Appearing and disappearing across distances, summoning rats and possessing them, even slowing the movement of time.”

Then whatever influence Delilah had over the Oracular Order, she couldn’t make them see something that never happened. She could only point their visions where she wanted.

“So when your investigation into Delilah’s supporters started to look promising, the Oracles mysteriously became fascinated with watching me.”

Khulan shook his head. “That– what you’re implying…”

“I’m not implying. I’m stating it plainly.” Corvo punched the side of his cell for impact. “The sisters must be compromised.” He pressed against the bars. “It’s no coincidence that they started pointing you at me just when you started looking in Delilah’s direction. Listen to your gut. You know something about this isn’t right.”

“Listen to my gut?” Khulan snarled. “My gut told me you were a good man. My gut told me you could be trusted.”

“I am and I can be!” Corvo snarled back.

“You’re a heretic!”

“Who better to fight a heretic than another heretic?” he snapped.

The High Overseer was stern when he replied, “She has no Mark. We checked. She consented to our inspection after you called her a witch in front of the court.”

“She _is_ Marked, she just…” Corvo groaned with another wave of head pain. “She’s disguising it somehow. I don’t know. A spell maybe?”

“What sort of spell would she use?” Khulan asked.

Corvo felt a glimmer of hope. If Khulan was asking, he believed him. “I wish I knew.”

The High Overseer leaned in, almost casual. “What sort of spell would you use?”

Corvo’s heart sank and replied in monotone. “I’ve never performed any spells. I don’t worship the Outsider.”

Void, but this all felt eerily familiar. Corvo squeezed his eyes shut as the pain in his head intensified.

Khulan threw his hands up. “You keep insisting on that part. Everything else you just told me— ‘hypothetical’ or not— and you still won’t admit to worshipping him.”

“Because I don’t!” Corvo wrapped his left hand around the bars, Mark facing outward. “I never asked for this. I swear it.”

“I suppose it’s possible,” Khulan said to himself as he fidgeted in front of the cell. “The Outsider’s twisted games could be played with an unwilling participant. We like to think we can be devout and use the force of our own will to shun him but if what you say is true— that he can grant powers with no exchange of favor given— then why don’t we see this type of thing more often?”

Corvo snorted. “If you’re asking me to explain his motives, you’re out of luck.”

He was tempted to tell Khulan that Delilah wanted more than just the throne of the Empire. But the High Overseer might actually approve of Delilah’s plans to the kill the Outsider. So Corvo kept that part of the plot to himself. 

Khulan turned to him, expression more open now but still firm. “I have no way to force you to tell the truth. You’re an accomplished spymaster and everything you just told me could be a well-crafted lie.” He looked to the abandoned notebook under the chair. “I’ll do as you say, and take a look at this dossier. I don’t believe Delilah’s story, but I’m not ready to believe yours either.”

For the first time, Khulan stepped close to the bars. Close enough for Corvo to grab him. The High Overseer stared at him in silent challenge, but Corvo wasn’t stupid enough to lash out. He’d never get past the guards and he knew it.

“Corvo,” Khulan said softly. “Even if I did believe you, about the conspiracy and your investigation…” He hung his head. “It doesn’t change the Mark. Even if Emily is acquitted of ordering the murders— even if you are acquitted of perpetrating them— you’ll still be executed for heresy. It doesn’t matter that you were unwilling when you received the Mark. I’m sorry.”

Corvo’s eyes burned but he nodded. As soon as the Mark was revealed, he knew his fate was sealed. But Emily’s wasn’t.

“Emily didn’t know.” Corvo pushed against the bars desperately and dared to reach out. He gripped Khulan’s forearm and the High Overseer didn’t pull away. “I kept it secret from her all these years. I lied to her and she trusted me. She knew nothing. I swear it. Just… please…”

Khulan nodded solemnly. “That much I believe.” He stood inches from the bars now. “When we revealed your hand in the throne room, her shock was genuine. I was watching for her reaction and it wasn’t feigned. I…” He squeezed Corvo’s hand. “I’ll do what I can to make the Abbey see reason regarding her.”

“Thank you.” Corvo released his grip and slid to the floor of his cell as Khulan walked away.

Corvo didn’t care what happened to him anymore. He just wanted Emily to be safe. Perhaps if the Abbey got the blood it wanted from him, they’d spare her. Maybe in death he could finally see Jessamine again. He tried to summon the Heart, but the music that kept him from using any powers also prevented him from hearing her voice.

Corvo held his head in his hands and fell asleep to the awful music and the feeling of dampness on his cheeks.

* * *

Cecelia hurried through the dark alleys of Dunwall.

She needed to find a shrine. Now. But the Overseers were emboldened and out patrolling in force.

The first shrine she tried, the one in the basement of the abandoned house on Bunting Way, was crawling with Abbey personnel and flooded with the sound of the that awful music when Cecelia arrived. She barely made it back up the stairs and into the street without being spotted. She only knew the locations of a few other shrines in the area and all of them were either destroyed or being surveilled by Overseers.

Cecelia cursed under her breath. She needed to talk to the Outsider and she needed to do it somewhere that wasn’t about to be raided. Finally, she made a decision.

The Hound Pits was boarded up but her key still worked, so she snuck in through the back. Shockingly, there were no squatters and no one had broken in to loot anything. The air inside was stale and for a moment Cecelia regretted closing up shop. It hurt to see the place like this.

Cecelia made her way up the creaky steps to the attic. The trunk was just where she’d left it, and Cecelia quietly rummaged through its contents until she found a bolt of uniquely patterned purple cloth.

The iron wire was hidden beneath a loose floor board and the planks of wood—waterlogged from being soaked in the Wrenhaven— were shoved underneath the rickety old bed in the corner. She assembled the components as best she could and hoped that the construction didn’t have to be precise.

She hazarded a guess about the angle of the wooden planks and the number of times to wrap the wire round the base. She lit the lanterns and finally, draped the cloth around the back of the altar. There were no runes or charms to place as an offering, but Cecelia knew from experience that the Outsider didn’t need them in order to make contact.

And there she stood in front of a quiet shrine to the Outsider, risking charges of heresy and her very life if someone saw. And she waited.

And she waited.

“Come on, come on, come on,” she muttered, tapping her foot impatiently.“I know you can hear me. Corvo’s in trouble and Delilah outplayed us and I know you care so just… come on already!”

She accentuated her frustration by slapping the small table she’d used to prop everything up. As soon as she did, the world around her shattered.

When Cecelia reoriented herself, she was in the Void. But instead of some empty slab of black stone, she was surrounded by… statues?

Cecelia shivered as she walked between two lines of robed figures. The scene looked ceremonial, and her suspicions were confirmed a moment later when she reached the head of the procession and saw the altar. It was empty, thankfully, but another robed figure stood frozen in front of it. The knife in its hands made very it very clear what had happened here.

“Things haven’t played out the way I expected.” The Outsider materialized at Cecelia’s side. His eyelids were heavy and his shoulders low.

Cecelia crossed her arms. “You don’t say.”

“Delilah is more clever than I anticipated.” The Outsider chuckled darkly to himself. “She told an unbelievable story of magic and attempted murder. Then she showed the entire court my Mark on Corvo’s hand.” He sighed into the Void. “Her claims of political assassinations at Emily’s request seem mundane by comparison. It will be much easier for people to believe the worst about the empress after they’ve just seen evidence of something so extraordinary.”

“So what do we do now?” Cecelia asked. “The Overseers have Corvo. Empress Emily is going to have to defend herself against the accusations. How do we help them?”

He clasped his hands behind his back as he began to stroll slowly along the edge of the island. Cecelia hurried to follow him.

“Well?” Cecelia huffed after he remained silent.

The Outsider stopped and stared into the distance. “I don’t know.”

“What?” Cecelia grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around to face her. She was too frustrated to consider perhaps that wasn’t a good idea.

The Outsider cast an annoyed glance to her hand and shrugged free of her loose grip. “I mean,” he spoke slowly through gritted teeth, “I do not know the best course of action.” He turned back to the Void. “There are too many possibilities. And with each act of interference, more and more possibilities are created in reaction. Infinitesimally. It’s too much to sort though. I can’t… I can’t comprehend it like I used to.”

Cecelia took a deep breath and tried not to scream. “Then focus on which possibilities include all of us living through this and tell me to do to make it happen.”

“There are very few possibilities where we _all_ live through the coming disaster.” He struck her with a pointed glare. “Which lives concern you the most, Cecelia? Yours? Corvo’s? The Empress’?”

Cecelia had dealt with enough ornery drunks to know when she was being needled. She stepped right into the Outsider’s space. “Which lives concern _you_ the most?”

He swallowed and when he finally spoke, it was barely a whisper. “I would think that was obvious. But now that the Overseers have him…”

“There’s no hope?”

“Very little.” He clasped his hands together. “If the Overseers can be convinced of the threat Delilah poses, there’s a small chance for me. But Corvo…”

Cecelia felt a weight settle in her stomach.

“Delilah’s most recent actions have changed things,” the Outsider continued. “In the beginning of all of this, I feared that Corvo would live to see me destroyed.”

“And now?”

“Now it’s the other way around.”

“Unless we find some way to clear Corvo’s name,” Cecelia insisted.

It was hard to tell when they were solid back, but Cecelia was fairly sure the Outsider rolled his eyes. “The Abbey has already convicted him of high heresy.”

“Then… we rescue him.”

“He’ll refuse to go. He won’t leave Emily while there’s still a threat.”

“So we stop sulking about it and eliminate the threat.” Cecelia pursed his lips. “We kill Delilah so that this wasn’t all for nothing!”

“She’s immortal and I still don’t know where she’s hiding the effigy,” the Outsider sniped. “I can’t… I can’t _see_ it _.”_

Cecelia balled her hands into fists. “So guess. Like normal people have to do.”

He turned his back to her and for a moment Cecelia thought he was going to leave. But after a long silence, the Outsider spoke.

“Traveling last-minute to Dunwall like she did, Delilah certainly took the effigy with her.”

“So it’ll be on the ship she sailed in on?” Cecelia ventured a guess.

“Possibly. But a ship lacks the security or privacy of a vault.” He nibbled his lower lip as he paced back and forth. “Once they arrived, she’d want it well out of sight. Somewhere there would be no questions. Corvo accused her of heresy in open court, which she anticipated. She wouldn’t risk leaving her effigy anywhere the Abbey could find it if they got it in their heads to perform a search.” His eyes widened. “Perhaps an old stomping ground.”

The Outsider straightened and locked eyes with Cecelia. “Luca Abele was in the throne room when Delilah accused Corvo and Emily of wrongdoing. But Breanna Ashworth wasn’t there.”

“That’s odd.” Cecelia rubbed her chin. “I would’ve thought she’d want a front row seat for Delilah’s performance.”

“She probably did. But Delilah would insist on someone she trusts to guard her effigy at all times. She won’t leave its protection to underlings.”

Cecelia grinned. “Find Ashworth and find the effigy.”

“And I think I know where Delilah would keep them both.” The Outsider turned his head to the Void and a large island in the distance shimmered as a location took form. Cecelia didn’t recognize the dilapidated mansion.

“Brigmore Manor. She used it as a base of operations once before. It’s remote and familiar to her. It’s the most likely place.”

Cecelia nodded. “I’ll tell Meagan and we’ll start making plans. But if the effigy is there, what do we do to it? Blow it up? Set it on fire?”

“No.” The Outsider’s face scrunched in thought. “You can’t simply destroy it. Delilah’s spirit must removed from its housing and then returned to her.”

“I… don’t know how to do that.”

“Corvo has the necessary tools to do what needs to be done. It has to be him.”

Cecelia rubbed her temples. “And he’s in prison. So what are our options?”

The Outsider stared into the Void. “Our options are ever shifting, transforming and reshaping with each decision we make.”

“That’s not helpful.”

Finally he turned to her. “If you would do one more favor for me. The last one I’ll ask of you.”

Cecelia nodded.

“Go to Coldridge prison. Find the control room that pipes the Overseer’s music into the Heretic Cells and disable the sound.”

An image shimmered to life on a slab of rock floating just beyond the small island they shared. Cecelia saw the room, the hallway that led to it, and the controls inside.

Cecelia frowned. “The guards will come running.”

“They will. But you’ll be long gone.” He smiled. “The music only needs to be disrupted for a few seconds. Just turn it off and run.”

Cecelia perked up. “Are we helping Corvo escape?”

The Outsider shook his head. “No. That won’t be possible now.”

“Then what will turning off the music do?” Cecelia crossed her arms. “What are you going to do?”

His face softened.“I’m going to say goodbye.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took more than a few days to wrestle that scene. But, the extra time helped and I got a full chapter edited with the extra days!
> 
> Also, content warning for abusive behavior from a partner. It’s brief (so it wasn't tagged on the main story).

It was the wind that woke him.

The cold was no surprise but there shouldn’t’ have been such a breeze in his cell. Corvo snapped to awareness on the smooth black stone of the Void. He shoved to his feet, blood pumping and alert for danger.

Flowering rose bushes, decorative statues and neat walking paths were scattered around in a very familiar pattern. Corvo sucked in a breath when he recognized the tableau: the gardens at the Tower. How dare that witch bring him to a place with so many memories of Jessamine. Surely it was a taunt of some kind.

“Delilah!” he shouted. “I’ll have your head! You think you have them all fooled but they’ll see through you!”

The tell-tale sound of magic and moving air whistled behind him. Corvo whipped around, and swung at the presence behind his back.

The Outsider caught his fist in a long-fingered hand.

“They will see through her,” the Outsider assured him. He ran a thumb over Corvo’s knuckles. “But will they see through her before she destroys your world?”

Corvo sagged with relief and reached for him. Without thinking, he pulled the Outsider close and enveloped him in his arms. The Outsider stiffened against his chest but relaxed after a moment and allowed his face to be buried in Corvo’s collarbone.

“Ceòl,” Corvo whispered. The name was heavy on his tongue. 

The Outsider went tense again. “Cecelia told you.”

Corvo ran his hands down the Outsider’s back experimentally. He didn’t remember anything from before but he knew this was familiar. It felt right.

“Don’t be angry with her,” he pleaded.

The Outsider raised his head. “I’m not. That’s why I’ve brought you here. To help you remember.” He lifted a hand to Corvo’s face and thin fingers lightly scratched through his beard.

Corvo’s eyelids fluttered shut. “I thought you couldn’t. I thought…” He’d _assumed_ that the Outsider couldn’t because there was no good reason to keep the memories from him anymore. Had he been wrong?

The Outsider ran his fingertips along Corvo’s jaw. “I tried before.”

“At Stilton’s.” He remembered the strange sensation that built in his head but then fizzled out. ”It didn’t work.”

“The spell might have worked if I’d pushed myself harder.” The Outsider sighed. “But my connection to the Void is… tenuous. So I stopped just before I exhausted myself and severed that connection.”

Corvo leaned into the Outsider’s touch. “Delilah was right then? You’re not a god anymore?”

The Outsider’s lips quirked into a lopsided grin. “That depends on how you define ‘god’.” He hung his head. “But I’m not what I once was.”

“So what are you now?”

The Outsider squared his jaw. “Determined.”

The air around him pulsed and Corvo felt a tickle in the back of his mind. “You’re going to try again?” His breath hitched as the sensation built from a tickle to a tingling that filled his entire head. “Can you do it without weakening yourself this time?”

The Outsider squeezed Corvo’s hand. “No.”

“So, why take the risk if…” Corvo let the implication sink. “We’re going to die, aren’t we?

“My fate is still uncertain.” The Outsider met his eyes, resigned. “But yours is increasingly grim.”

The Outsider’s hands trembled. His eyes flickered, then the black faded to green.

“Ceòl…”

The kiss was slow and lingering. Ceòl threaded one hand into Corvo’s hair and the tingling in his mind expanded. His tongue went numb and his sinuses itched. In the back of his skull he could feel something pulling at loose threads. But instead of searing pain blooming behind his eyes, for the first time since the headaches began there was relief. A great pressure lifted.

Corvo fell into the kiss, hungry and chasing the familiarity as memories bubbled to the surface.

He remembered coming the Void as it used to be and meeting with the Outsider as he used to be. There were walks and picnics— obvious courtship rituals in hindsight— and the two of them content to simply be in each others presence.

He remembered the edges the Void turning black and the Outsider shouting “Go!” Then a young man with green eyes asked for him at the front gates of the Tower.

He remembered Ceòl. Music lessons with Emily. Drinking by the fire in his room. Being arrested by the Abbey!

Then they were in Samuel’s boat. Chains were wrapped around the man he’d made love to only hours ago. He held him under the surface of the water and…

Corvo jerked away from the kiss and covered his mouth with a hand.

“I killed you.” He stumbled backwards. “I drowned you. Why? Why did I–”

Ceòl stepped towards him slowly, as if he were afraid to startle an animal. “Let the memories come.”

Tears stung the corners of Corvo’s eyes but he let his mind drift freely, each new memory washing over him like the relentless crashing waves on the shore.

“So you could go back to the Void,” Corvo finally said. His vision blurred and he swayed on his feet. “You needed to deal with Delilah. But…” He looked around and realized this wasn’t the first time he’d seen the ruined Void. “But it wasn’t going to be that easy. You asked me to make a decision.” His shoulders sagged. “I remember. I remember saying… yes.”

And then he’d spent the next seven years living his life as normal.

“Only things didn’t go as expected.” Ceòl frowned. “Absolutely nothing has gone according to plan. Not a single thing.”

Despite the seriousness of their situation, Corvo stifled a chuckle at the petulant tone. “When do they ever?”

Corvo stepped forward and rested his forehead giants Ceòl’s. Everything they’d done, all their plans, and it came down to Corvo in prison and Ceòl helpless in the Void.

Corvo tried to get the gruesome images out of his head, but every time he closed his eyes he saw flashes of that horrible night— of Ceòl’s still body being dragged out to sea.

“So I killed you for nothing?”

“Not for nothing. I came back. But the Void…”

Corvo thought about what Delilah said— that the Void had been without an avatar for seven years. “It didn’t take you back. Not fully.”

“No, it didn’t.”

“Because of Delilah’s interference?”

“Among other things.” Ceòl kept his gaze on lowered. “When I returned to the Void, it was different.” He wrung his hands in front of him. “I was different.”

Corvo hooked his fingers under Ceòl’s chin and lifted his head. His eyes were still green! They weren’t shifting back. Corvo held his gaze hoping to see some flicker of darkness but they stayed human.

“I clung to my humanity tighter than I did before, due in no small part to my fondness for you.”

Corvo ran a thumb over Ceòl’s cheekbone. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.”

“What will happen to you if you can’t reconnect to it? Will you…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Once Delilah is no longer siphoning energy from this place, my hope is that I can undo some of the damage done by her ritual. The Void could stabilize enough for me to reconnect with it in some capacity. I might not ever be a god again but I could become… something. And killing Delilah is the only way that will happen now.”

Ceòl took Corvo’s hand and something in his posture softened. “I tried to warn you when she escaped. But…” He suppressed a grin and Corvo had a feeling that if he’d been human, there would be a pinkness to his cheeks. “But I couldn’t pull you to me. Instead, a small piece of me entered your mind, and once I was there…” Ceòl sucked his lower lip between his teeth and ran his fingers across the lapel of Corvo’s shirt.

“The dreams. I…” Corvo felt his cheeks burn as the memories surfaced.

“Not that I minded the distraction,” Ceòl whispered.

“When I woke up it all faded away.”

“And so I resorted to using a messenger. Your interference into her plans at such an early stage prevented the worst of what was to come. However…” He heaved a frustrated sigh. “It also caused her to change strategies entirely. Not even I would have predicted that Delilah would try to do things this way: within your legal system. But perhaps I should have. In essence, it’s what she tried to do the last time: put you on trial for all to see. She wants to watch the people turn on you and Emily.” The tips of Ceòl’s long fingers traced the wrapping around Corvo’s hand. “And this time she didn’t remove your Mark beforehand.”

“She… she took my Mark!” Corvo remembered waking up with Ceòl in his arms, then the knife descending on them both. “It got me stabbed, but it saved my life when the Abbey came.”

Ceòl stroked over the Mark. “I could try…”

Corvo squeezed his hand. “No, I might need my powers. And the Overseers have already seen it. If the Mark suddenly disappeared they’d just accuse me of more witchcraft.”

He leaned down and took a deep breath of Ceòl’s hair. He wasn’t a god but he still wasn’t human, so he smelled like the Void. Corvo tugged him close anyway. He’d given up his connection to the Void to say their farewells. Corvo wanted to make sure that sacrifice wasn’t in vain, and he wanted to make sure the people he cared about were safe.

“What are my chances?”

Ceòl took a moment to reply. “Of killing Delilah? It’s not hopeless. But even if you succeed…”

“The Abbey is going to kill me. I know.” Corvo nodded. “No matter how I defend myself, I know what’s going to happen.” He ran his hand up and down Ceòl’s arms. “After Delilah is dead, I want you to become… yourself again. Or as close to it as possible. And then use that power to–” His voice broke. “I want you to look after Emily when I’m gone.”

Ceòl’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped.

“I know it isn’t what you normally–“ Corvo fumbled for the right words. “I know you don’t bother with people unless it’s ‘interesting’ for you but–”

“Look after her, how?”

Corvo smiled despite himself. “Not in any way that would get her accused of heresy.” He lazily stroked the skin behind Ceòl’s ear. “The thought of her being alone, surrounded by vultures and opportunists, with no one she can trust looking out for her best interests…”

He sifted through the surfacing memories. He saw Ceòl and Emily seated at the piano, sly smiles, ribald stories, and practice debates. He remembered how Ceòl gave her advice about how to handle Windham and then stood by her side in Holger Square, allowing her to take control of the situation at the young age of sixteen, while making it clear he was there to support her if she stumbled.

Corvo swallowed around the lump in his throat. She’d need that more than ever once he was gone.

“You liked her. I could tell. You made her laugh and you challenged her. You groomed her for leadership more than I ever did. After I’m gone she’s going to need someone like that. Promise me…” He squeezed his eyes shut against the welling tears. “Promise me you’ll do what you can to be there for her.” He pressed their foreheads together. “She’s going to need a spymaster she can trust.” He felt Ceòl tense up in his arms.

“Corvo, I–”

“She’ll have to replace me with someone, but I can’t think of a single person in Dunwall I’d trust. And as long as you communicated with her in her sleep the Abbey wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t ask unless it was important. If you ever cared for me–”

Ceòl placed a finger against his lips. “Assuming she and I are both alive after all of this…” He smiled a bit. “I’ve never been a spymaster before. Who knows, it could be interesting.”

Corvo smiled. “Good. Now I just have to make sure you both survive.”

“You could still survive this.” Ceòl raised a hand to Corvo’s face.

“How?” He leaned into Ceòl’s touch. “Could you erase everyone’s memories again?” For a moment, he hoped.

“That won’t be possible.” Ceòl’s face darkened. “If I still exist after this ordeal, it will take time to regain my strength and by the time I do…”

Corvo nodded. “It’ll be too late.” He turned his face and pressed his lips to Ceòl’s palm. “It’s alright. I can accept my fate as long as the people I care about are safe after I’m gone.”

Ceòl opened his mouth like he wanted to say something. But he remained silent. Dumbfounded.

Corvo smiled softly. “Now, I just need to kill an immortal witch.”

Ceòl straightened his shoulders. “Cecelia is investigating. We may have deduced the location of the effigy. But we won’t know for sure until she has a chance to search for it. If we’re lucky, it will be where I’m hoping, and then we’ll need to find some way to get you there. You’re the only one with the necessary tools to do what needs to be done.”

“And I’m guessing the Overseers won’t let me out of prison on a day pass?”

“Not likely.” Ceòl’s smile was mournful. “However, there is a chance they’ll let you out under guard.”

Corvo scoffed. “They’d have to be desperate to risk even that.”

A small grin spread across Ceòl’s features. “If we can get Delilah to reveal the magnitude of her powers, there will be some very desperate Overseers.” Ceòl clenched his fists. “Delilah is so frustrated I can taste it. She wanted to take the throne in a dramatic show of force. A violent coup. Not like this. She hates playing the victim and going through the ‘proper channels’ to do things. She’s likely to snap at even the smallest setback.”

He gripped Corvo’s arm. “The Overseers must see her for what she is. Make her show her true colors to everyone. But when she does… be careful. I don’t know how things are going to unfold after this.”

“I won’t go down without a fight,” Corvo assured him. Ceòl sagged against him, growing weaker by the minute now that his connection to the Void was severed.

“Bringing you here has taken up the last of my strength that I could safely spare. I’m strong enough to continue existing but I won’t be able to bring you into the Void again until sometime after Delilah is dead.”

And by then, it went without saying, Corvo may have been executed by the Abbey. So this could be their last chance to say goodbye.

He looked for a place to sit and smiled as he recognized it as the same bench where they had their first intimate encounter years ago. It seemed fitting to say their farewells here.

They sat side by side and Ceòl leaned against him, heavy and pliant. Corvo pressed a kiss to his cheek and Ceòl hummed in contentment. In the distance he heard the call of a whale, low and pained.

Corvo linked their fingers together and they stared off into the emptiness. “I’m glad I got to say goodbye.”

* * *

Meagan navigated up the Wrenhaven’s narrow channel by moonlight as they approached Brigmore Manor. The trip was too far for the skiff, so they left the others on Stilton’s yacht with Jindosh under heavy guard. Then the two of them took off up the river on the Dreadful Wale.

They docked just around the bend from the manor and Meagan showed Cecelia some old blueprints from the city records office. Cecelia didn’t ask how she got them.

“I hid at Brigmore for a while during the plague,” Meagan explained. “Had to get out of Dunwall while the city ate itself. The manor was in rough shape then and it’s probably worse off now. The front entrance is exposed but there is a way around back near the cliff faces. That’ll take some climbing though. There’s also a crypt entrance here.” She pointed to the map. “But it’ll be a kill box if there’s anyone inside and you’re spotted. So, that’s up to you.” Meagan ran a hand through her short hair. “Are you sure you don’t want backup?”

Cecelia was tempted but shook her head. “I’ll move faster on my own without worrying about having to shield anyone else. And besides, I’m not going there to fight. Just look around.”

“Have you ever tested your special skill against magic users?”

“It worked well enough on Corvo.” Of course, Corvo didn’t actively practice witchcraft. Cecelia bit her lip and shoved her shaking hands in her pockets. “I’ll be fine. And if I’m not…” She took a deep breath and looked at the dimming sky. Everything looked fine for now but the images she saw in the Void— the black swirling mass opening up above Dunwall as Delilah’s plan came to fruition— haunted her now. She looked back to Meagan. “If I don’t come back that just means there’s something there worth investigating.”

Meagan squeezed her shoulder. “Be careful. Delilah hasn’t been back long enough to rebuild her coven to full strength but, there’s bound to be some members. Old and new. They…” Meagan ran a hand over her mouth.

“Delilah has a way with people. She knows how to tap into a person’s rage.” Meagan fished around in her jacket pocket. “Everyone’s had something happen in their life. Even the richest people have suffered something. I guess that’s how she got to the Duke. The same way she…” Meagan snorted a dark laugh. “The same way she gets to everyone.”

Cecelia watched as Meagan pulled an ornament from her pocket. It was the wooden animal head from the Duke’s vault! After Corvo stormed out of the vault they’d stayed behind to pilfer valuables to sell. They needed to resupply for the trip to Dunwall after all. Cecelia must not have been looking when Meagan took it.

Meagan stared at the thing in her hand and her eyes were distant. “Delilah can make you focus on the worst day of your life. And before you know what’s happened, that one moment defines you. The rage wraps around you like a blanket and you’re suffocating in darkness. But then there’s a pinhole of light and air. And it’s Delilah. And she’s calling to you. Telling you that every wrong can be made right if you just follow the sound of her voice.”

Cecelia’s eyes widened.

Meagan cleared her throat and the focus returned to her gaze. “What I’m saying is, the women in there aren’t going to stop and listen if they catch you. If they haven’t seen Delilah for what she is by now they’re too far gone. So… don’t be seen.” Meagan stuffed the ornament back inside her pocket. “I head back at dawn, with or without you. Stilton is gonna need someone to coach him before the big performance.”

“I’ll be back before then,” Cecelia assured her. She hoped she was right.

Brigmore Manor came into focus as Cecelia rounded the bend in the river. Half the roof on the east side was caved in and the river had eroded much of the shore barriers that used to keep the water at bay. It was even worse than Meagan said, but then it had been twelve years since the plague.

Not that Cecelia believed Meagan’s story about hiding out at the manor to escape the city. What was important was that she wasn’t with Delilah anymore and she wanted to make things right.

Cecelia approached the dilapidated ironwork fence, mostly collapsed except for a few sections. She eyeballed the area near the cliffs where she could go around back, but the old trees that used to give shade to that area of the yard were toppled over, roots exposed, and blocked the path. Judging by the scattering of dirt, the damage was recent.

Her eyes slid to the cemetery and the stone crypt Meagan pointed out. It looked unguarded but something about the area felt wrong. Most cemeteries were creepy but as Cecelia crept around this one, she felt like she was being watched. She kept her breathing steady and the world around her was crisp and slow as she placed her feet lightly on the soggy ground. She was careful to avoid the muddy areas that would show her footprints and stepped only on the sparse patches of grass.

She was nearly at the crypt’s entrance when a sharp whistle cut through the air.

“Yaro! Come here boy!”

Cecelia froze and projected her stillness outward as a woman came crashing through the bushes from near the main house.

“Where are you?” the young woman grumbled to herself. She began kicking over rocks and looking through the debris on the cemetery’s damp ground. “You’re the laziest hound. I swear.”

Cecelia watched her carefully. She looked like a normal woman at first glance. But when she rolled up her sleeves to reach underneath an overturned headstone, Cecelia saw the first hint that something was off about her. Small green tendrils, like vines, were plastered to her skin. They looked like veins on the outside of her body. And that wasn’t all. At first, Cecelia thought it was the play of moonlight and shadow on her skin in the shade-covered area. But as the woman stepped into the light, she saw it again. The woman’s skin went deathly pale, then shimmered with a dark substance underneath before fading back to normal.

She didn’t know what that was, but it wasn’t natural. This was one of Delilah’s witches.

“There you are!” the witch exclaimed, half in song. She stood over a dirty dog skull next to the entrance of the crypt and put her hands on her hips. “Were you rolling in the river mud again? Now you’ll need a bath before you come back inside!”

Cecelia barely stifled her gasp when the skull began to shimmer. The magic expanded and twisted in the air around the skull and a hound sprang to life. The thing was made of bone and gnarled flesh knotted around the skeleton. And, sure enough, it was covered in river mud.

The hound followed her with its tail between its legs back to the front entrance of the house where the witch doused it with buckets of water from a nearby water pump.

Cecelia kept her eyes peeled for any other skulls as she pried open the crypt with a nearby iron bar. She hated to think what would have happened if she’d stumbled upon that thing not knowing what it was.

Thankfully the crypt was empty. Cecelia snuck through the way she saw on the blueprints and emerged inside the main house. There was another skull on the floor in front of the fireplace but it didn’t react as she moved quietly past it. She wondered if the undead hounds needed the witches to wake them or if her ability was keeping her safe.

She made her way around the ground level, careful not to disturb anything. Dust covered the floor and and mold grew in the corners of the ceiling. Cecelia tried not to sneeze or cough but the air inside the house was terrible. She was so focused on keeping quiet and listening for other members of the coven that she nearly tripped over a thick cable running across the hall.

She followed the cable through the house and nearly had a run in with a few witches on the way. They were posted at the entrance to a large chamber. They chatted idly with each other, pausing only as Cecelia snuck by and their attention wavered.

“I– uh, what were we talking about?” one asked.

“You were saying… something. Huh. I blanked out for a second.”

“Me too. We’ve been posted too long. When’s Layla getting back? I gotta pee.”

The next room was full of empty whale oil tanks and scraps of copper and other metals. Cecelia’s stomach sank. They were building something.

She stepped gingerly over the mess and peeked her head around the corner.

Cecelia nearly lost her concentration. There were coffins in there! They stood upright and lined the walls of the room. Each had a wire running around the bones of the corpse inside that connected to a larger machine in the center of it all. There were a series of crystal lenses scattered around the base that looked like they should fit into the circular structures. Whatever this was it was either still being built or undergoing repairs.

But what was it for?

“Delilah, my Empress.”

Breanna Ashworth was here! She stood in the far corner of the room and she was talking to… a statue of Delilah? But that wasn’t the only odd thing in the back corner! Mounted on a pedestal to the right of the statue was the strange thing Corvo described! An effigy of bone that looked like a human wrapped in leathery wings! It was here!

“Breanna, I need to hear some good news from you. I’ve been in meetings with barristers all day and I’m exhausted.”

Cecelia nearly stumbled backwards. The statue spoke! It moved!

Ashworth hung her head. “The process isn’t going well without Jindosh.”

The statue of Delilah frowned. “I thought we were finished with him. We got the Oraculum to work.”

“It worked in _Karnaca_.” She reached up to her immaculately styled hair, and stopped just short of pulling it free from the pins. “But those arrangements aren’t working here. It’s the energy around the manor, I think. Or the lack of it. We’re further away from our pinhole in the Void so the lenses need to be arranged differently and I don’t—”

Ashworth began pacing. “If Jindosh were here, he could recalculate to account for that and I could be back up and running in a few days at most. By myself, I’m just trying things out to see what works. And that’s… dangerous.” She faced the statue again. “I got the alignment wrong earlier and nearly severed my connection to the Void. I’m operating blind, Delilah.”

The statue of Delilah crossed its arms. “You knew this wouldn’t be easy. But you’ve done it before. Each time you commune with the sisters you push their visions to focus where you want them. If you try just a little harder I know you can do even more than that. You can make them see whatever you want about whoever you want. True or false. Think about it,” Delilah crooned. “You can invent scandalous heresies to show the Order about every nobleman who ever wronged you.”

Ashworth made a sour face and stared at the machine.

Delilah added, “You said you could handle it.”

“I can!” Ashworth snapped. “I just need… time. Resources.” She waved her hands at machine. “I need Jindosh for this!”

Delilah did not look amused. “Well we don’t have him anymore. Perhaps I should have protected him after all.” She sighed. “Everything since I arrived back in the word has been so rushed. Damn Corvo.”

She focused back onto Ashworth. “What about the artifact? Have you made any progress in locating it?

Ashworth hung her head. “Not yet.”

“More and more bad news.” Delilah leaned forward. “If we can’t manipulate the Oracles into accusing Emily of heresy and this trial doesn’t go my way… I may be forced to skip straight to the next phase. And I don’t want to face the Outsider without a blade up my sleeve. He’s clever.” She poked at Ashworth with a marble finger. “Find. It.”

“Of course, my Empress. It will be done.” Ashworth’s face was almost as stoney as Delilah’s.

The statue went still and for a moment Cecelia thought the interaction was over. But Delilah spoke again.

“Something else is bothering you.” The statue flipped a hand against its unmoving hair. “Out with it.”

Ashworth hesitated. “It’s… nothing.” She swallowed and looked away.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

Ashworth huffed. “I heard about your day. Trina was there keeping watch for Corvo’s allies like you asked and she just got back.” She looked at the floor and tapped her foot. “She said Luca introduced you to his legal team as… his fiancé.”

The statue of Delilah crossed its arms. “He did.”

Ashworth’s face twisted. “Should I buy you and Luca a housewarming gift? Something gilded? He’s tacky like that.”

“Breanna,” Delilah cooed. “You know I prefer your company over that loudmouth of a man.” The statue raised a gloved hand and caressed the side of Ashworth’s face. “But there are certain expectations of me now. Taking the throne by force would have been one thing. But since I have to act the part of a concerned citizen, there are traditions I’ll have to uphold while I consolidate my power–”

“You loathe tradition!” Ashworth spat. She pulled away from Delilah’s outstretched hand. “Who cares if you upset some nobles by going unmarried. Jessamine never married! Emily is an unmarried bastard! They followed her like sheep. You don’t have to marry Abele, and you know it!” Ashworth was red in the face and breathing heavy.

But Delilah was eerily calm as she replied, “Breanna… your tone…”

“And even if they try to question your legitimacy, by the time they can do anything about it we’ll be ready for the next phase of the plan. So what does it matter? Unless…”Ashworth paused. “Do you care for him?”

Delilah rolled her eyes. “Like a favorite pet.” She softened a bit and added, “A pet with enough silver to sink a dreadnaught.”

But Ashworth didn’t seem relieved. “If it’s only his money you want, you already have it. He’d give you everything if you so much as snapped your fingers.” She creased her brows and curled a painted lip. “Or are you losing control of the Duke and succumbing to his whims now?”

“Do not question me!” Delilah’s hand lashed out. She grabbed Ashworth by the neck and lifted her kicking off the ground. “How dare you imply that anything I do is for the sake of others?” Ashworth choked and struggled in Delilah’s marble grip. “Everything that I do is for my own sake, Breanna. No one else’s. Not even yours.” She shoved Ashworth away and she landed on the floor halfway across the room, coughing violently.

Delilah returned to her pose. “Never forget that.” The statue went still.

Cecelia hurried back to Meagan in a blur. She nearly tripped over one of those dog skulls on the path to the river. Cecelia almost forgot to drop her concentration when she stood in front of Meagan. She was too rattled to be amused when Meagan jumped at the sudden appearance.

“Find anything useful?” Meagan asked.

“I did. The effigy is in there. And so is Breanna Ashworth.” 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know anything about how the legal system works in Dunwall. Canon information is spotty so… enjoy me making up a bunch of fictional law stuff! As Charlie Kelly would say:
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The Overseers paraded Corvo to the courthouse in chains.

Flanked on either side by men with music boxes, Corvo couldn’t be sure if his dizziness was from the infernal sounds of their machines or the smell of his own body. He hadn’t bathed in nearly a week and his once fine clothes were filthy with grime from the prison cell. The guards had allowed him a pail of fresh water and some clean rags to wipe down with that morning, but he still wasn’t fit for fine company.

Corvo did his best to keep a respectable pace, but with his feet cuffed together by a length of short iron chain and his hands cuffed to a chain around his middle, there was nothing he could do to make his shuffling gait look dignified.

The scene outside the courthouse was roughly what he expected. Throngs of people, both noble and common, gathered around the the steps. The crowd was thinner inside. But as the Overseers shoved him towards the central chamber Corvo heard the din of hundreds of voices.

High Overseer Khulan waited for them just outside the doors, speaking in hushed whispers to some of the guards. He nodded to Corvo’s escorts as they approached and carefully avoided acknowledging Corvo in any way.

“Sir,” one of the overseers said. “Is Vice Overseer Byrne inside?”

Khulan shook his head. “No. We thought it best he stay near Holger Square.” His eyes slid to Corvo. “Just in case something unexpected happened.”

The two Overseers at Corvo’s sides stiffened but Khulan waved a hand. “Not that we’re expecting trouble. That being said…” He scratched the thin line of his beard. “The judge will insist on silence for the proceedings. You’ll need to stop the music once we’re inside.”

“Sir, the heretic might…”

Khulan cut him off him with flick of his wrist. “Which is why you will remain vigilant.” He looked to the clock across the hall as it began to chime. “It’s time.”

The Overseers stopped their machines.

Corvo only had a moment to bask in the sweet silence. He felt the magic of the Void begin to trickle back into him. He was still weak but Corvo briefly considered his options. He wouldn’t get far in chains, but once he was strong enough to try a possession, he could get far enough away to find tools to break free. He could buy time with a few magic distractions and…

And then Emily’s legal position would be even more dangerous than it already was. If he ran now— a convicted heretic and father of the Empress— Delilah would make her case even more convincingly. Emily could lose everything. Plus, he couldn’t protect her if he was on the run and he could never risk visiting, even if she prevailed in court.

No. Corvo had to stay close to both Emily and Delilah. So he took a shaky breath and felt the magic flow through him, but didn’t tap into it. Not yet.

The heavy wooden doors swung open and the Overseers shoved him through. Sure enough, the benches of the courtroom were packed with members of the nobility. Even the gallery seats were filled with people of all classes huddled shoulder-to-shoulder to take in the spectacle.

At the front of the room two long tables faced each other on opposite ends of the floor, with a white line in the polished marble dividing the space and a judge’s dais between them. The witness bench and a secondary dias were arranged just to the side.

This was it. It was really happening.

It broke Corvo’s heart to see Emily sitting at the table on the left side of the room— the side of the Accused. She was seated with a small army of barristers. Jacob Wainwright, Emily’s personal barrister, sat at the head of the table and spoke to his team in whispers.

Corvo’s stomach jumped into his throat when Emily turned her head towards him. Grimy, stinking and chained like an animal, it was bad enough for the masses of citizens to see him like this. He watched Emily’s face contort with horror, pity, and rage. He wanted to reach for her, but the chains at his wrists were a cold reminder.

Emily pushed up from her position at the table.The court officers scrambled to make way for her but the Overseers flanking Corvo were less impressed and didn’t alter course as they manhandled him towards the witness bench.

Emily intercepted them. “Unchain him this instant!” she commanded.

“Emily it’s alright,” Corvo said, leaning in as close as he dared. “If this makes them feel safer, let it be. I just want to get this over with and clear our names.”

He knew the Overseers weren’t going to back down and it wouldn’t do to have her orders openly disregarded by the Abbey in front of hundreds of people. He motioned subtly to the full gallery and Emily seemed to take his meaning.

She nodded stiffly. “Fine. It’s temporary anyway.” She took Corvo by the elbow pulled him into a hug. “Alexi tried to stop them from taking you,” she whispered into his ear. “After Ramsey kicked your face in.” She pulled back and looked at Corvo’s bruised cheek. “He relieved her of duty. Bastard. Never should have trusted him. I tried to start the process of relieving _him_ of duty but the barristers said that would only make things worse for me legally. It would make me look like I was retaliating against him for ‘doing his job.’”

Emily glared towards the back of the room and Corvo followed her gaze. His hair stood on end when he saw Mortimer Ramsey’s smug face. The traitor was here to watch, and all under the pretense of securing the courtroom.

Emily gently took him by the shoulder and tried to lead him towards the table of the Accused. Corvo expected the Overseers to snatch him back by the scruff of his neck, but Wainwright beat them to it.

“Highness, no!” he hissed, and scurried over to the end of the table before Emily could lead him to it. “This is your hearing, not his. He belongs over there!” He motioned to the witness bench. “And once again, I highly recommend severing your ties to the Royal Protector. There’s nothing you can do to help him now that he’s been convicted of–” 

Emily flashed him a glare that would have killed an ordinary man, but Jacob Wainwright was not easily intimidated. He’d been the official legal counsel acting on behalf of the Empress since Emily was a teenager. The position was a cushy one, and highly sought after. But Corvo had made damned sure that Emily’s legal representative was as ruthless as he was honest— not an easy combination to find. 

Wainwright squared his shoulders. “I have a duty to advise you, and you swore to take my advice, Your Highness. This hearing is to determine whether or not Ms. Copperspoon’s claims against you have enough weight to go to trial. This is not about your father’s innocence or guilt so don’t ally yourself with him in front of the entire court.”

Wainwright took an exasperated breath and stepped in closer than protocol would typically allow. “Besides, to insist on seating him at our table will give the impression that you think yourself above the law. Don’t poison a potential pool of jurors with that idea.”

“Emily, he’s not wrong.” Corvo tried to make his smile reassuring. “You need to focus on your defense. The Empire needs you on that throne. Don’t let Delilah get what she wants.”

Emily deflated and turned to him. “What does she want?” she whispered. “My throne, I know. But why? Who is she? Is she really my…” Her jaw tightened, unable to say the word.

“I don’t know. But that isn’t important right now. You do whatever you have to do to exonerate yourself. The Abbey has already judged me guilty, so throw me under the railcar if it saves you.”

Wainwright nodded. “He’s right.”

Emily rounded on the man so quickly Corvo thought she was going to strike him in open court. Her voice came from behind clenched teeth as she hissed, “No one is going to execute my father. And once this farce is over, I’m going to make sure the Abbey regrets–”

Wainwright spun her around and gently pushed her towards the table of the Accused before she could finish that thought within earshot of the Overseers. “Back to the matter at hand,” he said quickly. He shoved Corvo into the arms of the Overseers at his back.

The Overseers steered Corvo to the bench for witnesses and his chance to speak to Emily was gone.

Behind him, Corvo heard the doors swing open again and he looked over his shoulder. Delilah strode into the courtroom trailed by Duke Abele and an entourage of noble-born men carrying files. She’d assembled an impressive legal team. Duke Abele had more than enough money and connections to see to that.

Emily’s legal team was the best in the Empire but judging from the way Wainwright’s eyes widened when he saw the men trailing after Delilah, they were in for a fight. Corvo wasn’t familiar with the barristers who were situating themselves at the table of the Accuser but Wainwright obviously was. He leaned over and whispered something to Emily. She nodded and her entire table huddled.

A few minutes later the judge entered the room and everyone, Corvo included, was given the order to rise. A small knot in Corvo’s stomach uncoiled when he saw the honorable Judge Carpenter.

William Carpenter was one of the few officials within the judiciary who was not high-born. Born to a maid who served in the household of a wealthy noble, it was rumored that he was the nobleman’s bastard. Others said it was simply the precocious boy’s gift for talking himself out of mischief that caught the master of the house’s eye and led him to invest in the child’s education. Regardless, William Carpenter graduated at the top of his university’s class. He entered the field of law shortly after.

Carpenter had a reputation for being fair and impartial. Ideally, all judges were but he lived up to those ideals more than most. Carpenter’s demeanor and manners were acceptable enough but he also made no attempt to hide the low-born drawl in his voice when he addressed the court and gathered crowd.

“Be seated.” He looked out over the packed room. “Quite a crowd,” he observed. “You’d almost think they were here to see a witch burning.”

There was a tittering in the court that flowed like a wave from one section to another. Corvo felt hundreds of eyes on the back of his neck, but he remained sitting straight with his eyes forward.

The judge banged his gavel for silence. “Let me be clear from the very beginning about what this hearing is and is not!” The bass in his voice echoed through the chamber. “This is a hearing to determine the merit of charges brought by Ms. Delilah Copperspoon against Lady Emily Kaldwin, Empress of the Empire of Isles. The charges against Lord Attano will require a separate hearing to be held at a later date. Additionally, the charges the Abbey have brought against Lord Attano will be dealt with privately within their ranks. Today, we will be hearing arguments _only_ in the matters that relate directly to the case of Copperspoon v. Kaldwin.”

The crowd visibly deflated.

Judge Carpenter continued. “If you came to see a show today you’re in for disappointment. Despite the potentially scandalous nature of the claims, this is a legal proceeding which will be conducted with professionalism and courtesy by both sides.” He made steady eye contact with the lead barristers at both tables. “Correct?”

Wainwright bowed his head. “Absolutely, Your Honor.”

Delilah rose from her seat and tipped her head dutifully as well. “Yes, Your Honor.”

Corvo raised a brow. Delilah was speaking for herself? He snorted and shook his head. Even now, she was compelled to be the center of attention.

“Good.” The judge cleared his throat and looked over to Corvo, and the Overseers arranged behind him. “Due to the unusual nature of some of the Accusers claims, there is an Abbey presence in the court today. Typically these matters wouldn’t involve them, but the Articles of Rectification allow the Abbey to participate in cases when their authority is deemed necessary. So, High Overseer Khulan will be permitted to question and examine pieces of testimony that fall outside of the court’s expertise. However, he is not permitted to advocate for one side or another.”

The venom in Judge Carpenter’s voice was barely concealed. He was one of a few authorities in Dunwall to lobby for a total separation between the Abbey and the State. Legally, those lines had always been too ambiguous for either side’s liking. No doubt the judge felt his own authority infringed upon today as High Overseer Khulan stepped onto a secondary dais opposite the judge’s. 

“High Overseer Khulan, the last time we spoke you said the Abbey was only interested in examining matters of the arcane that will be referenced in the testimony today. Has that changed?”

“It hasn’t, You Honor.” Khulan stood tall on his dais and spoke with authority. “We have no reason to pursue any charges in the matter between Empress Kaldwin and Ms. Copperspoon.”

Corvo nearly choked on his relief. The Abbey wasn’t charging Emily with heresy! They were only here to question him about Delilah’s accusations. He risked a glance to Khulan and hoped he could convey the gravity of his thanks with a look.

The judge looked relieved too. “Very well. Now that’ we’ve settled that matter…” He cleared his throat. “The Accuser, Delilah Copperspoon, levels the following charges at the Accused, Empress Emily Kaldwin.” A hush fell over the room as all stray whispers ceased. “She claims that Empress Kaldwin ordered the murder of two citizens who spoke out against her politically and made an attempt on her life as well.”

A swell of whispers rose up, crashing around Corvo’s ears as he tried to focus on his breathing. He had no doubt Delilah had fabricated enough evidence to support her lies. The banging of the judge’s gavel against the bench brought everyone’s focus back to the front.

“Silence!” Carpenter ordered. “Don’t work yourselves into a lather.” He waved to Delilah at the table of the Accuser. “Ms. Copperspoon, your fiancé has provided quite a set of representatives for you. But you’ve chosen to speak for yourself. Is that correct?”

Fiancé? Corvo cast a glance to the Duke, seated at the table behind Delilah. Was Delilah planning to marry Abele? It made sense he supposed. The Duke would be able to give her the legitimacy she needed to acquire her throne, even if that wasn’t the original plan.

Corvo thought about what the Outsider told him in the Void. Delilah had wanted to make a big show of taking the throne— a dramatic coup. Doing things this way was already forcing her to make compromises. Hopefully the tedium of Dunwall’s court system would make her… moody.

“That’s right, Your Honor. My barristers are here to counsel me but I wanted to plead my case to you and the people personally.” She turned to the court with her hand over her heart. “And, since the truth is out now, I’d like to go by my true name. Kaldwin.” Her smile was tight and her eyes lingered too long on Emily.

Carpenter shook his head. “The matter of your lineage— both proving it and determining what rights, if any, that grants you— will be a matter determined by another court at a later date. For now, the court will address you by your legal name and we will discuss only the charges I’ve described.”

Corvo watched as Delilah opened her mouth to argue but one of her barristers quickly whispered in he ear. Whatever he said calmed her down because she recovered her mask of deference and bowed her head.

“My lineage is relevant to the charges. I believe my bloodline was the motive for the attempt on my life. She tried to have me killed,” Delilah said, pointing to Emily, “because I am a Kaldwin with better claim to the throne.”

“And we’ll hear those arguments. But until such a time as those claims can be verified, the court will address you by your legal name.” 

Delilah took a step forward and clenched her left hand. Corvo half-rose in his seat, expecting the worst, but Duke Abele placed a hand on Delilah’s shoulder and whispered something in her ear.

“Of course, your honor. My apologies.” Delilah ran her hands across the lapels of her flower-studded jacket to smooth the material. Corvo tried not to flinch remembering those hands on his body in the Void.

“I’d like to begin by introducing some new evidence that only just came to me last night,” Delilah began. “These records show half a dozen land deals, trade agreements and financial exchanges made by the Empress on behalf of the Empire that would later come to benefit her personal finances. She has embezzled funds from the Royal Reserves for personal use and engaged in questionable trade deals for the purpose of lining her own pockets!”

Corvo longed to see the stack of papers that she deposited in front of the judge. They were obviously forgeries, but probably very good ones. Delilah had help from her allies.

She’d definitely been coached on what to say from her barristers as she laid out the specific arguments for why each deal represented a conflict of interest at best, and outright malfeasance at worst.

The judge accepted the evidence and began sorting through it. However, as he did, he glanced over his spectacles at Delilah.

“May I ask what this has to do with the charges you’re bringing against Lady Emily?” He held the document up to the light, inspecting a watermark. “These are documents from the Office of the Treasury and the Office of Internal Oversight. How did you come by them?”

“They were given to me only recently, Your Honor. After I made my plight known to the people.” She waved to the crowd. “Both of those offices are under Lady Emily’s direct authority. Their directors didn’t dare risk crossing her. But since I’m not under her thumb–”

Corvo took a deep breath to steady his hands. He wondered if those directors had been turned before or after Delilah came to Dunwall. Both of them were old noble blood and predated Emily’s ascension. They’d probably embezzled those funds themselves right under Emily’s nose!

He growled under his breath. He should have cleaned house when she came of age and fired all the old guard. Damn it all!

Luckily, the judge cut Delilah off with a glare. “Ms. Copperspoon, I hate repeating myself. Are these accusations directly related to the charges we’re discussing today? Are you claiming these deals were used to fund the alleged assassinations and alleged attempt of your life?”

She looked to her barristers who quickly conferred and then shook their heads.

“No, your honor. We don’t have proof of direct use of the funds to–”

The judge closed the files and handed them back to Delilah. “Then this will be a separate legal matter, and not one you have the right to bring before the court today.”

“What?” Delilah clenched her fists but maintained her composure otherwise. She cast a glance back to her barristers cold enough to freeze them in place. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Ms. Copperspoon, these matters have to go through the proper channels. You can’t just drop a stack of documents in front of a judge about supposed illegal activity that is _unrelated_ to the matter at hand and expect me to simply throw it on the pile.”

Delilah asked for a moment to confer with her counsel and Corvo tried his best not to smile at her setback. It would be a premature celebration anyway.

Suddenly, something brushed his hand. Corvo jerked in his chains at the invisible intrusion into his personal space. He tried to relax when he felt a burst of hot breath in his ear. They didn’t see her and he wanted it to stay that way.

“Corvo,” whispered Cecelia. “Are you alright?”

He stared straight ahead tried not to make petulant face. Or move his lips much when he spoke. “I’m fantastic. You?”

She huffed a laugh. “Never better. Meagan and Stilton are working on a plan to–”

“Stilton?”

“Oh! Yes. Mr. Stilton is here! He followed us just after he got word from Meagan. They have a plan to get rid of the Duke. Without his money, Delilah doesn’t have her army of barristers.”

Corvo shook his head and sighed. “I told Meagan to get you all out of town if anything happened to me. I’m not surprised she didn’t listen, though. Since you’re all still here, what about Jindosh? Or Armando? They could testify,” he whispered carefully from between his teeth.

“Jindosh is refusing to speak because he doesn’t want Delilah to kill him. Which she would.” Cecelia sighed. “We can drag him here but we can’t trust him to tell the truth. Hypatia is offering to talk but…”

“I told Meagan not to let her do that.”

“I know. But if our plan doesn’t work, she might do it regardless.” She was quiet for a moment. “I got what I needed from the Duke and I just wanted to check on you before I left.”

“What are you planning? Can I help?”

“There’s nothing you can do right now. Plus, we need you to be surprised when it happens. It’s best you don’t have to fake it.”

Corvo hated sitting here useless. “Cecelia,” he whispered. “We need to convince the Overseers what a threat Delilah is. Whatever you’re planning, it needs to make her angry. If she lashes out and uses magic…”

Cecelia chuckled. “Oh, what we’re planning is going to make her furious.”

“Good. And when it does, I’m hoping the Overseers let me go after her.” He looked to where Delilah was hissing at one of her cowering barristers. “Not that it will do any good while she’s still immortal. Have you had any luck?”

“I found the effigy, but I couldn’t risk getting close to it,” she whispered. “It’s at Brigmore manor, being guarded by Ashworth, a half dozen witches and some awful magic hounds made of bone. The Outsider mentioned that you had to be the one to do… whatever to the effigy. And, if it comes to it, we can break you out. I snuck into Coldridge a few nights ago to tamper with the music. I could do it again.”

Corvo furrowed his brows. He’d been so disoriented from the music that first night Corvo hadn’t thought to ask how the Outsider managed to pull him to the Void while the music boxes had his magic pinned down. Cecelia and Ceòl were full of surprises.

“If I escape from prison, Emily’s opponents will use it against her. Or they’ll claim she’s responsible. I won’t do that.”

“Well we might have to.” Cecelia squeezed his shoulder. “But for now, just stay strong.”

Her hand slid away, and Cecelia was gone.

“Which brings me to the original set of accusations against my niece.”

Corvo’s attention snapped back to the hearing where Delilah had apparently given up trying to add extra charges of financial wrongdoing. The crowd’s focus was palpable as she stalked back and forth in front of the table. This was, after all, the main event.

“Alleged, niece,” Wainwright called out. He was finally getting his head in the game. “Your Honor, as you’ve established that Ms. Copperspoon will need a separate legal hearing to determine the claims she’s making about her bloodline, I request that she refer to Her Highness, Empress Emily Kaldwin, by the appropriate title.”

“Agreed.” Judge Carpenter turned to Delilah. “Regardless of your relationship to the accused, the proper forms of address will be used while you’re in my court, Ms. Copperspoon.”

Delilah went still. Too still. She clenched and relaxed her hands and for a moment Corvo thought she’d lash out. But Delilah regained control and smiled amiably.

“Of course, Your Honor. I meant no disrespect to the court.” She took a deep breath and continued. “As I was saying, the accusations I’m here to discuss today regarding… Her Highness.” Delilah nearly choked on the words. “I was in my art studio at the Grand Palace when I was attacked by a man wearing a skull mask.” She turned and pointed to Corvo. “That man!”

“Your Honor!” Wainwright stood again. “If he was wearing a mask she can’t positively identify her alleged assailant as Lord Attano.”

Delilah stood tall and strode to the thin line in the middle of the floor. It was the farthest she was allowed to go according to the rules of the court. If she passed the center of the room and into the half held by the table of the Accused she’d be held in contempt of court. It was an archaic law from the days when court proceedings often turned bloody and the two sides of a dispute had to be physically separated from each other. None of the guards nearby seemed concerned about letting Delilah walk right up to that line on the floor, but Corvo tensed in his seat.

“I suspected it was him when I saw the mask. A lot of people put two-and-two together during the plague years when Corvo Attano escaped prison and the Masked Felon began tearing apart the new ruling party.” She looked straight at him and Corvo felt his skin go cold. “But when the assassin in the mask summoned a swarm of rats to eat me alive, I didn’t expect that. Now that we’ve all seen Corvo Attano bears the Mark of the Outsider, who else could it have been?”

She walked back to her table and produced a folder from the pile and handed it to the judge. “My guards’ sworn statements about the evening.” She strolled back to the center line and faced Emily.

Corvo itched to stand between them.

Delilah stared Emily right in the eyes. Daring. “And I have no doubt about who sent this Crown Killer after me and why.”

Wainwright surged up from his seat. “The Accuser is not allowed to assign a moniker to her alleged assailant.”

“Agreed.” The judge narrowed his eyes at Delilah. “This is a courtroom, not a theater production. You will refer to Lord Attano by name or not at all.”

The day dragged on this way, with Delilah detailing the evening she claimed to have been attacked and Barrister Wainwright refuting her claims as best he could. Wainwright was always careful to defend Emily’s innocence in matters without sticking his neck out for Corvo.

“Her Highness did send the Royal Spymaster to Karnaca to investigate rumors of a conspiracy,” Wainwright admitted before the court. “However once he left Dunwall, there was no communication between them and who knows how he went about handling things? Certainly not the Empress! What I can say with complete certainty is that no killings were ordered by the crown!”

Not a bad argument. But Emily fumed at her table and repeatedly called Wainwright over for huddled discussions every time he failed to explicitly defend Corvo.

Corvo stared at the chains around his wrists and feet and let the weight of inevitability settle within his gut. It was for the best. His fate with the Abbey was already sealed and if Wainwright thought the only way to save Emily was to imply Corvo was a loose canon, he’d accept it.

He’d gladly die to keep Emily safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week's chapter might be late. It's a long one and I'm considering adding an extra scene to develop Emily a little better. I'll do my best to have it rewritten by Sunday, but I can't promise.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay everybody.

“Be honest,” Emily mumbled around the thumbnail she was rapidly chewing to the quick. “Is this nonsense going to go to trial?” 

Wainwright loosened the tightly knotted scarf around his neck and slouched in his chair. “Your Highness… I honestly don’t know.”

Emily leaned against the window of her office, staring down upon the city. She could see the docks at the far end of Barrow Street from here. The people looked like specs from this high up. 

She wondered how many of them crowded into the courthouse earlier today. How many of those people gawked at her while Delilah accused her embezzlement, deceit, and murder? How many of them believed she was guilty?

“You know how to read a crowd.” Emily turned to him. “Do the people believe it? Do they believe I embezzled funds and ordered murders?”

Wainwright’s gaze locked onto his shoes.

Emily huffed a punch-out breath. “How? How could they– I would never–“

“Highness, they don’t know what to think.” He slouched in his seat. “Most of the nobles who were in the gallery today are guilty of at least one of those charges themselves. It wouldn’t be a stretch to believe it of someone with your influence.” After a pause, he added, “They don’t know you.”

Emily lowered her forehead to the window and snorted. She traced patterns in the fogged up glass as she breathed against it. 

“Do they–” She bit her lower lip. “Do people think Delilah has a better claim?”

“The law is very clear. She was never formally legitimized, so she has no claim.”

Emily went still. “That’s not what I asked.”

“What the people _think_ is irrelevant.” Wainwright pushed up from his chair and came to stand next to her at the window. “You are the Empress of the Empire of Isles. You are the formally recognized heir of our last Empress. Those are the facts.” 

Emily swallowed and kept her eyes on the streets far below. “So I’m more worthy, because my mother had the power to legitimize me.”

Wainwright’s shoulders fell. “This is not the time to doubt yourself.” 

“It’s not–“ Emily furrowed her brow. “I know I want to do right by people. I want to be a good leader. But have I been?”

“You’ve done admirably,” Wain wright said. He paused and added, “You’re still young. You’ve made some understandable missteps. But no one ever expected you to do this all on your own. That’s why you have advisers, counselors, people who–”

“People who betrayed me at the first opportunity.” 

Wainwright sighed. “The Directors of the Treasury and Internal Oversight.” He narrowed his eyes. “When we clear your name, they will be dealt with accordingly.”

Emily lowered her head and gazed back down to the docks below. “When we clear my name. But not my father’s?”

“Highness… his fate is sealed.”

* * *

The second day of the hearing began the same as the first. Overseers led Corvo in chains through the court. His testimony hadn’t been needed the first day since Emily’s barristers were focused on trying to have the charges against her dropped entirely. 

But the judge didn’t agree that Emily’s lack of communication with Corvo in Karnaca meant a total lack of involvement. And so today, Corvo was scheduled to take the stand. Whether he wanted to or not. 

Corvo stiffened when Emily’s defense brought out the large green folder he hadn’t seen since he left Dunwall. This was it. 

All eyes were on Corvo as an Overseer hauled him to his feet. The chains rattled as they maneuvered him to the stand. The sound of it reminded Corvo of the night he and Ceòl said goodbye in Samuel’s boat. His stomach soured. 

The judge took the weighty folder. “The infamous dossier.” He looked at Corvo for the first time since the proceedings began and pulled out a small slip of paper. “And this is the anonymous letter that started it all.” Carpenter cleared his throat and began to read. 

“Corvo, there is a conspiracy to undermine, and eventually overthrow, Emily Kaldwin. The conspirators’ influence will spread across your Empire in the coming months and years. But if you intervene early enough, you can prevent the worst of it from coming to pass. Turn your gaze to Karnaca. Yours, An old friend.”

Corvo ignored the murmuring of the crowd and watched Delilah’s face as the judge read aloud. She did an admirable of keeping her composure but the flicker of a snarl made it through her mask.

“And you received this message when?” Carpenter asked. 

“The 17th day of the month of Rain,” Corvo replied. Less than a day after Delilah returned from the Void. 

“And nearly five months later you faked your death in order to travel to Karnaca.” 

“That’s correct.”

“Based on what evidence?”

Corvo sifted through his memories for the correct ones. Originally, Stilton’s disappearance is what cemented his decision to take such extreme action. But in this timeline, Stilton lived. 

Corvo cleared his throat before answering. “There were signs of money laundering, construction of some sort being commissioned through the Royal Conservatory, and then I received confirmation from Aramis Stilton that my hunches were correct.”

Judge Carpenter examined the contents of Stilton’s letter. 

> Lord Protector,
> 
> Forgive the breach in protocol, but I didn’t know if standard couriers could be trusted given the Duke’s involvement in this conspiracy against the Empress. So, I took my chances and am having this delivered through a trusted friend. 
> 
> I know you said you couldn’t return to Karnaca until the Eighth of Timber, but if there is any chance you can fill me in on things sooner, it would ease my restless nights. Since I refused to participate in the ritual that evening, I’ve been shunned by Jindosh and Ashworth. Luca keeps our meetings strictly to business matters. They don’t trust me and so I have no idea what they’re plotting.
> 
> I hope you have things under control in Dunwall, because in Serkonos the situation is tense. I’m doing all I can to keep my miners safe and stem the flow of silver to Luca so that he doesn’t have unlimited coin to do whatever it is they’re planning. But I fear for my life if I deny him too much. 
> 
> If there is some safe way to contact me, please do so. Otherwise, I’ll wait for you at my home on the aforementioned date.
> 
> Good luck,
> 
> Aramis Stilton

The judge hummed in thought. “This letter names Duke Abele, Kirin Jindosh and Breanna Ashworth as conspirators in some sort of plot, but not Ms. Copperspoon. Furthermore, it doesn’t say what they were involved in. Mr. Stilton simply writes that they are plotting _something_ he wasn’t in the loop about.” 

He filed the note away with the rest of the documents. “You’re telling me this was enough to launch an investigation that required you fake your death, sink an Imperial Navy vessel, pay off a captain and his crew and cost the Empire thousands of man hours searching for a body they would never find?” 

So, Judge Carpenter wasn’t going to make it easy on him. 

Corvo knew Stilton was in town now but he had no way to confer with him or ask what they were planning behind the scenes. All he could do was answer. 

“Like you said, Stilton was out of the loop. Hence, why I went to Karnaca personally.” 

Carpenter scratched his chin. “I don’t suppose Aramis Stilton is here to testify to any of this?” 

Barrister Wainwright stood up. “Your Honor, we sent word to Karnaca requesting Mr. Stilton’s presence. We haven’t heard back yet, but I’m sure he’ll be willing to corroborate everything Lord Attano has told you.”

Judge Carpenter let out a long-suffering sigh. “We’ll see about that.” 

“I would like to point out that these letters prove nothing,” Delilah chimed in. “And neither of them mention my name! The letter from Stilton named certain people but not me. And even then, it’s only his speculation. Not proof.” 

The judge went still and glared. “Yes, Ms. Copperspoon. I already addressed that. You don’t need to reiterate my own statements to me.” 

Delilah plastered an amiable smile on her face. One of her barristers tugged on her jacket to force her back to her seat and she hissed at the man for his trouble.  

Corvo hated to think it, but if he’d never saved Stilton— if the timeline never changed and the mining baron had disappeared after the seance that night— they might have a more sensible case to present to the court right now. After all, Stilton’s disappearance was a more compelling reason to travel in secret to Karnaca.

The judge made eye contact with Corvo for several long seconds. “You say you were there to gather evidence against the conspirators. Do you have anything to show for it?”

Corvo gritted his teeth and fought the urge to slap himself. If he’d had the forethought to take Delilah’s audiograph from the Vault, he could have the witch’s confession playing before the judge right now. But he’d been in such a hurry to catch up to her, he left it behind. Damn it all! 

Of course, he did have evidence on the Dreadful Wale and people who could testify to what happened in Karnaca. But Jindosh was more likely to lie before the court than not, and Hypatia and Stilton risked their lives if they admitted what they’d been involved in. Plus, Cecelia said they were planning something. 

Corvo sighed. If he told the court about the evidence stored on the Dreadful Wale, Delilah would have witches and assassins descending upon the vessel before sundown. He couldn’t risk it. 

“I was preparing evidence to present to a court, Your Honor. But when Ms. Copperspoon and Duke Abele fled Karnaca I was forced to abandoned my investigation and pursue them. I was afraid they were going move on Lady Emily.”

Judge Carpenter leaned back and crossed his arms. “Tell us who sent the note that warned you originally and we’ll bring them here to testify.” When Corvo didn’t answer he added, “Or do you really expect us to believe that you don’t know the identity of the person who sent the anonymous note?”

Corvo held his breath. But before he could be compelled to answer, the sound of scuffling bodies and shouting echoed in the halls beyond the courtroom door.

“Let us inside this instant or you’ll regret it!” a familiar voice bellowed.

The judge motioned to the nearby guard. “What is that commotion outside? Go and see!” 

But before the guard could move, the doors to the courtroom swung open and Aramis Stilton forced his way past the guards with a familiar figure at his side.

Corvo’s eyes went wide. What was Armando doing here? Was he here to testify? And if so, why was he wearing the Duke’s formal dress uniform?

“Your Honor!” Armando cried out. “People of Dunwall! He’s an imposter! He and the witch have fooled you all!” 

The Overseers stiffened at the mention of witchcraft and Corvo felt the point of a sword at his back. 

Stilton and Armando shoved past the City Watch guards who tried to stand between them and the main floor. That was risky. But the bluster of an angry nobleman was something these men were trained to be wary of and Armando wasn’t shy about throwing his weight around. Even Stilton had the air of a man ready to move the earth with his will.

The Duke pushed up from his seat at Delilah’s table. “What is the meaning of this?”

Armando and Stilton marched past Captain Ramsey who shot a glance to Delilah as if to ask her what to do. But Delilah was as wide-eyed as everyone else. 

“Order!” Judge Carpenter banged his gavel. 

Armando shoved his way past the waist-high barrier that separated the crowd of observers from the court. He strode to the table of the Accuser, placed a meaty hand on Duke Abele’s chest, and shoved hard. 

“Imposter!” Armando snarled. “After everything I’ve done for you, _this_ is how you repay me? Did you think you’d get away with it?” He threw up his hands and gestured around the courtroom! “Obviously so! All the way to Dunwall it seems!” 

Whatever embarrassment Corvo felt about falling for Armando’s performance at the Grand Palace evaporated as he copied the Duke’s affectations perfectly. The Grand Guard soldiers who stood nearby— the Duke’s personal retinue— looked back and forth between Armando and the Duke in disbelief.

“I’m the real Duke, idiots!” the Duke cried. He fumbled for something in his breast pocket, then froze. “What– where is it? My medallion I had it…” 

Armando grinned at the Duke as he pulled a gold medallion from his breast pocket and held it high above his head. “The sorry bastard really believes it. He thinks he’s me.” He pointed accusingly to Delilah. “Void only knows what she did to him.” 

Corvo tried not to take some dark delight in the way the Duke sputtered curses as his own guards surrounded him.

“Order!” Judge Carpenter motioned to the court guards. “No one leaves the court until we sort this out! Duke Abele… er, both of them, remain right where they are. So does Mr. Stilton and Ms. Copperspoon.” He had to bang the gavel for silence several more times before the uproar in the crowd began to die down. “Now will someone tell me what’s going on?”

Stilton stepped forward. He bowed his head to the judge and then to Armando. “May I explain first, Duke Abele?” he asked.

“By all means,” Armando said. 

Stilton turned to the room. “I began to suspect something was wrong with the Duke several months ago. Luca wasn’t himself. He was spending coin he didn’t have and pressuring me to work my miners to death to get more silver. Now, on its own, that wouldn’t have tipped me off. Luca has always been a bit… well…”

“A selfish prick,” Armando supplied. “It’s alright, Stilton. You can say it.” He hung his head. “I can say it now.”

Stilton clasped Armando on the shoulder in a show of support. “It’s true. The spending and the selfishness were extreme but not entirely out of character. It was when Luca took up with some new mystery woman that I began to suspect something sinister was happening.” Stilton glared at Delilah. “He kept odd hours and strange company, he mumbled to himself, and even had a statue of this new woman installed at his palace!”

“You didn’t mention her in your letter to the Royal protector,” the judge commented. 

“I didn’t know her name at the time,” Stilton answered quickly. “And in the beginning, I thought she was just another one of Luca’s passing flings.” 

At her table, Delilah was motionless but Corvo saw her eyes boring into the back Stilton’s head. 

Stilton kept his head high as projected his voice to the crowd. “I watched the Duke for signs of witchcraft, but I didn’t want to falsely accuse anyone. I know the penalties for these things are… dire.” 

He looked sympathetically to Corvo. “But I knew something was wrong when Luca never wanted to talk about his father or his brother to share stories of the times we had. So two weeks ago, during one of our business meetings, I mentioned a trip to the eastern coast of Morley he took with his father as a boy. I asked if he remembered the villa they stayed in. He smiled and said he had fond memories of that place, but quickly changed the conversation.” 

Stilton crossed his arms. “That’s when I knew the man seated across from me wasn’t Luca Abele! Luca never stayed in a Morlian villa with his father! As if they would ever be so quaint.” He raised a pointed finger and gestured to the Duke. “But his body double wouldn’t have known that!” 

Stilton strode to the center of the court. “I continued our meeting as usual, not letting on that I knew. But the double must have suspected he’d slipped up, because he and Delilah were gone the next day!” 

Stilton turned to the judge. “I’d been working with the Royal Protector, collecting and sharing information with him. But before I had a chance to tell him about this revelation— that the man we’d been investigating wasn’t the real Luca Abele— Corvo left the island in pursuit of the conspirators. Alone in Karnaca, I went to the palace. The staff all know me and I was able to secure a master key. I searched every room and eventually came to the cellar. It was there I found the real Luca Abele!” 

Armando went to Stilton’s side, looking every bit the Duke he was impersonating. “It’s true! I’m ashamed to say it, but I was held prisoner in my own home for months!”

He puffed his chest out and turned to the crowd. “I was Delilah’s patron. And then her lover. But as time passed and we became closer, I noticed I felt strange any time I was around her. I was… consumed by her.” He looked the High Overseer and shrugged. “Some people say that’s what love feels like. I’d never been in love, so who was I to say?” 

Armando ran a hand over his face. “She used to whisper in my ear about how she would run the empire if she were in charge. I thought these were just harmless fantasies, so I humored her. But then one night she told me about her plans!”

He raised a pointed finger high in the air to accentuate his point. “She wanted the throne for herself. She wanted to overthrow Empress Emily and she knew exactly how she’d do it! With my money she wanted to bribe officials, hire assassins and prepare a long campaign of misdirection and deceit!”

“I was so shocked, I broke free of whatever spell she’d been casting over me all those months.” Armando threw his arms wide. “I felt a fog lift from my mind and for the first time in too long I was thinking clearly. Seeing clearly! I opened my mouth to call for the guards but no sound came out. And then I lost consciousness.”

Corvo gaped as the drama played out. The performance was captivating. And believable too! His allies really came through with this ruse. Hopefully, they could convince the court. 

Armando paced back and forth across the courtroom floor. “When I woke up I was in the hidden room beneath my cellar. Delilah and Armando were standing over me and she was weaving some magic into his mind. He was looking at her the same way I did when I was under her spell.” He scoffed. “She wasn’t able to hold me. My will was too strong in the end. But my body double Armando— the poor weak-willed man— fell victim to her. And apparently no one among my personal retinue ever suspected.” Armando grumbled under his breath. “Idiots.” 

“The next few months I sat locked in that secret room while the two of them plotted and bled the country dry more than I ever had. Armando delivered my meals. But then one day he didn’t come to feed me. Or the next! I realized they’d left me to die down there!” Armando stared at the real Duke and said pointedly, “Who does something like that?”

Stilton stood tall beside Armando. “Thank the stars I found him as soon as I did.”

The Duke’s personal retinue retreated from him and scurried over to Armando, begging his forgiveness. 

Armando sneered and looked down his nose at them. “Morons. For months you served an imposter! When we get back to Karnaca we’ll see which of you still has a job!”

“No!” The Duke wrestled with two guards who had him pinned, arms behind his back, against the table. “I’m the real Luca Abele! How can you not— I’m obviously— gah!”

One of the guards cracked him over the head and he went silent. “Poor bastard.”

“Indeed,” Armando said, shaking his head. “I want him treated gently, men. As much as the betrayal sickens me, it wasn’t entirely his fault.” He glared at Delilah.

Aramis Stilton stood near Corvo as the guards hauled away an unconscious Duke Abele. “He was beyond saving. I know that now. But at least he lives,” Stilton whispered. “Theo forgive me.”

* * *

The judge called for a short recess while both sides of the aisle took a moment to find their bearings. Armando and Stilton agreed to wait outside and make themselves available for further questions but, acting like true nobles, they insisted on taking some “refreshments” after such a trying ordeal and left the court shaken in their wake. 

It didn’t take long for most of Delilah’s legal team to abandon her. Within minutes of the Duke’s arrest half of her barristers walked out. The other half conferred with one another in hushed whispers. From his place on the witness stand Corvo overheard bits and pieces.

“We’ve already been paid!” one of them hissed. 

“With the Duke’s stolen funds!” another replied. “We’ll be disbarred if we _continue_ to represent her!”

Corvo’s shoulders relaxed and a soft smile spread across his face. He knew nothing would save him from execution but Stilton’s stunt was quickly destroying Delilah’s case. This could save Emily’s throne, and certainly her reputation.  

Khulan motioned to an Overseer with a music box, and pointed at Delilah. 

“Now wait a minute!” Delilah cried. “I’ve already submitted to a search by the Abbey and they cleared me!” Daringly, she turned to Khulan. “The High Overseer himself cleared me!”

Khulan narrowed his eyes at her as he closed in. “I did. But that was in the throne room when the commotion with the Royal Protector happened. And we didn’t have the aid of the ancient music.” 

Corvo watched as Khulan circled Delilah, inspecting her for signs of weakness. 

“Ms. Copperspoon,” Khulan said, “please remove your gloves.” 

“My client doesn’t have to submit to a second search!” One of Delilah’s barristers was remaining loyal and he stood between her and the Overseer. “If you want a second search in so short a time, _that_ requires a judge’s order!”

It was true. In her time as Empress, Emily had initiated some reforms in the way the Abbey was allowed to handle their witch hunts. Among them, the Abbey needed judicial authority to perform subsequent searches of civilians if their initial probes turned up no evidence. It prevented Overseers from targeting individuals for harassment.

High Overseer Khulan strolled to the front of the court. “And wherever might I find an amenable judge?”  

Carpenter nodded in agreement and began hastily filling out whatever form was necessary. 

“These are all lies!” Delilah shouted over the cacophony on the court. A vein in her forehead pulsed. “And it doesn’t change anything about my case! My guards’ statements about the assassin who tried to kill me are still valid aren’t they? The murders in Karanca still happened! Just because I don’t have a nobleman backing me doesn’t mean I don’t deserve my justice!”

“Ms. Copper—Kaldwin,” her remaining barrister pleaded. “I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding. As soon as the High Overseer clears you again, we can continue and you can have your justice. Why, in a few weeks, a month at most, we’ll be able to proceed to trial. I don’t anticipate that taking more than a few months, even with this… er, setback regarding the Duke. And after that, your claim as Euhorn Kaldwin’s heir could be legitimized by Parliament in as little as a year! Two at most!” His smile was thin and placating as he extended his hands in a gesture of peace. “Why don’t you just have a seat and—”

Delilah went as still as a statue. “Two years?” Her cheek twinged and her voice was eerily soft when she finally spoke again. “So, after decades of waiting, I’m told to wait just a bit more. Yet another old man in a fancy suit tells me to sit down. Be quiet. And wait.” 

She clenched her fists at her side and stared at the polished marble floors. “Maybe next year, Delilah,” she said mockingly to herself. “Next year you’ll be ready to go court and be a princess.”

“These things take time!” her barrister insisted. “Surely you didn’t think it would be as easy as waltzing into the throne room, announcing yourself, and then taking a seat at the head of the Empire?” 

Delilah snapped her gaze back to him and curled a thin lip. “That was the original plan.” 

The nobles seated in the rows behind her gasped in unison. Lords and ladies exchanged whispers and glances. Slips of paper appeared and disappeared from one gloved hand to another. Like the rats they were, Dunwall’s nobility smelled blood on the air and began to swarm.

The barrister flailed his arms. “You can’t just say that out loud!” He moved to grab Delilah by the shoulder and seat her forcibly. 

Wrong move. 

Delilah swiveled her head to the intruding hand. “You don’t care about me.” Her voice was eerie and rang out in the chamber like an echo across a frozen river. “You only care about your coin and using me to grab just a bit more power for yourself.” She snatched his hand away and held the wrist. “As if you needed any more.”

Even from several yards away, Corvo heard the grinding of bone as she compressed his wrist with inhuman strength. 

The Overseer with the music box reached out to stop her and in doing so his hand left the crank. The oppressive force of the ancient music dissipated. 

Delilah flicked her free hand and the sound of cracking stone filled the air. The marble at her feet splintered! A thorny vine burst through the floor and wrapped around the barrister, lifting him into the air. It squeezed. The barrister’s mouth opened to scream but only a trickle of blood came out.

“Emily! Run!” Corvo shouted.

The packed crowd scattered towards the exits, tripping over and shoving each other desperately. Emily didn’t dare try to escape that way and risk being trampled to death. Half the guards at the exits ran with the stampede— cowards— and the others moved forward to confront Delilah. All Emily could do was take cover.

Corvo tugged on the chains around his midsection and feet.

“Overseers!” Khulan called out as he unsheathed his sword. “To arms!”

Delilah reared back and shoved with unnatural force. A burst of wind sent Khulan halfway across the room and he landed with a dull thud against the far wall. He laid on the floor unmoving and for a moment Corvo feared the worst. But after a few tense seconds, the High Overseer struggled to his feet. 

“Unchain me!” Corvo implored him. “Let me fight her!” 

Let me protect Emily. But Corvo’s plea was lost in the chaos. 

Two Overseers with music boxes moved on Delilah, but she was ready for them. She waved her arm and a blast of wind knocked the men back and into the opposite wall. Their music boxes shattered under the force. Another Overseer came at her from behind and dodged one of her murderous vines.

Corvo tried to call out to him. To warn him not to get too close. But before he could, the Overseer sank his blade into Delilah’s chest with a triumphant cry.

Delilah looked down at the sword protruding from her ribs, almost curious, and cocked her head. She smiled and turned to face the astonished Overseer as her flesh knit together as she pulled his sword out. It clanked to the floor behind her. Delilah flicked her wrist and a vine pierced the man’s skull from behind.

“Rah!” Delilah roared and her voice echoed an otherworldly tone in the quickly emptying room. Guards came at her and one after another they were swept back by gusts of wind and ensnared by angry foliage. The few blades that did pierce her skin had little effect.  

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” Delilah screamed. 

The guards and Overseers kept coming. Those that weren’t tangled in the deadly vines charged at her with practiced efficiency of a group. Ruefully, Corvo noted he could see Ramsey’s training had paid off with the City Watch guards. The captain, he also noticed, was huddled near the back of the room, not joining the fray. 

“Captain Ramsey! Sir!” one of the men called out. But the captain didn’t aid his men. Apparently he was going to see how this played out. 

Traitor.

Delilah held them at bay single-handedly, but she was struggling. 

Finally, Delilah summoned a huge wave of magic and the dozen guards and handful of Overseers surrounding her were forced back. A shimmering wave of energy encircled Delilah as she clenched her hands. Sweat dripped down her face and her eyes bulged with the effort to hold it. Guards came at the barrier with swords, bullet and even bare hands. But the barrier held against all attacks.

Delilah ignored the throng of men and looked to Corvo.

“I didn’t want to do things this way! I wanted to take my time,” she snarled. “I wanted to build my coven up over the next few years, and get my hooks into every influential noble with a grudge against the Kaldwin Dynasty.” She smirked at Emily. “There are more of them than you’d think, child,” she added with a sly grin. “I wanted to have everything ready when I made my move. It would have been a glorious show! But no. You ruined everything and so now I’m forced to… improvise.” 

Delilah wiggled her fingers at him in a mock farewell. The barrier dissipated. Overseers scrambled forward but it was too late. In the blink of an eye, Delilah vanished.

“She’s gone!” Khulan gasped.

“I warned you!” Corvo bellowed from the stand. He tugged on his chains. “I told all of you she was a witch! You didn’t listen!”

Near the back exit, Corvo saw movement. His gaze snapped to a retreating Captain Ramsey who was trying to quietly slip away. 

“Stop right there, traitor!” He couldn’t wave his arms but he motioned with his head and the loyal men of the City Watch obeyed his unspoken order.

The remaining men of the City Watch drew weapons and Ramsey stopped short when he heard the sound of half a dozen cocked pistols. He slowly raised his hands above his head and turned to face his furious soldiers. 

“Captain Ramsey, sir,” one of them said, disbelieving. “You– you’re under arrest. For treason. Sir.” 

Corvo rolled his eyes at the formality. The men patted down their captain and removed his service pistol, following protocol. Corvo slumped in his seat at the witness bench and his mind swam with how much needed to be done. First, he had to figure out which officials Delilah had bribed and get them out of their offices. Hopefully Ramsey knew something.

Suddenly, two arcs of electricity shot out of Ramsey’s pocket. Corvo watched as it chained from one guard to another and the men arresting Ramsey fell to the floor in a twitching heap. Before the Overseers could react, Ramsey threw another stun mine and the device activated just as they were within range of him. 

“No!” Corvo struggled to free himself. The guards were down. The Overseers were down. 

Ramsey turned his sights on Emily. He drew his sword.

The bottom dropped out of Corvo’s stomach as Ramsey leapt over the waist-high barrier that separated the crowd and the main floor. 

Emily stood alone at her table, the barristers having fled when the fighting began. But the young empress stood her ground as Ramsey descended on her. Corvo watched as she searched for a something to defend herself with, but since there were no weapons allowed in the court except for the guards and Overseers, Emily was unarmed.

Corvo was still too weak from the Overseer’s music to manipulate time, but nevertheless he felt it slow to a crawl in his mind. He was too far away. With his hands chained to his sides he’d never be able to disarm Ramsey. He focused on Ramsey and tried a possession spell but it failed. Damn! He was too weak for that as well! He’d never shuffle across the room in time to stop Ramsey. But he could…

He felt the magic pulse beneath his skin again now that the music boxes were destroyed. There was only one way to make it that distance in time. And he was a dead man regardless. 

Ramsey closed in on Emily. 

Corvo flexed his left hand and focused on the dwindling space between Emily’s body and Ramsey’s drawn blade. 

His chest ached at the memory of being forced to watch as Daud ran Jessamine through. _Take me, not her!_ he cried in his head. But he was held aloft by a Whaler’s magic as she crumbled to the ground. 

This time Corvo was the one with magic. He was still weakened from so much exposure to the music, but he could do one thing. He could move. He just hoped that Cecelia and Meagan would be able to stop Delilah’s plan without him somehow. He focused and prepared to move across space as his connection to the Void flowed through him. He gave silent thanks to the Outsider for the Mark he never asked for and hoped things would be alright without him.

_I’m sorry. I know I said I’d protect you, too. But I can’t let Emily die. I have to choose._

The feeling of moving through space was like a balm to his frayed nerves. It felt good to use magic again. And as he appeared in front of Emily as a human shield, he held onto that feeling and braced for the piercing of cold steel in his heart. But Ramsey’s blade never hit its target.

Corvo opened his eyes and a flash of red hair and a silver gleam whipped across his vision. Steel met steel and a young woman shoved Ramsey backward. 

“Alexi!” Emily shouted from behind him.

“Stay back!” Alexi cried, and dodged a blow from Ramsey. “Mortimer Ramsey.” Slash. “By the authority granted to me by the Empress of the Empire of Isles.” Dodge. “I hereby arrest you for treason!” Roll.

Ramsey wasn’t going to be taken in so easily. His eyes were wild as he lunged and slashed at Alexi. But Alexi kept her focus and didn’t reply. She countered his next blow and advanced. Her footwork was good, better than Corvo had ever seen in the yard, and she had a coiled focus in her eyes. 

Corvo kept himself planted in front of Emily, even as she tried to inch forward towards Alexi. He couldn’t hold her, but he reached out with his hand and grabbed her wrist. “Stay back Emily,” he whispered. “I’ll help her if she needs it.” But from the looks of things, Alexi didn’t need his help at all. 

Emily looked down at the hand holding her wrist. Corvo’s Marked hand. “So it’s true?” 

Corvo met her eyes and nodded. 

Emily pursed her lips, but said nothing.

Alexi dodged a heavy swing of Ramsey’s sword and rounded on him with a side swipe. Ramsey dodged, but Alexi swung from the opposite side at the last moment. His sword made a satisfying clatter as it skittered across the floor and out of his reach.

Alexi’s sword was at his throat in an instant. “On the ground. Hands behind your head.” Ramsey stared at her, unmoving. “Now!”

Ramsey inched to his knees and raised his hands slowly. He curled his fingers. He smiled.

Corvo only had an instant to realize what was happening. 

The knife appeared out of Ramsey’s sleeve in the blink of an eye. He lunged and the blade pierced Alexi’s stomach.

 She roared through the pain and her knees wobbled, but Alexi remained standing. 

Ramsey was on his feet in an heartbeat and he swept his discarded sword off the the ground. He turned his sights back to Emily.

Corvo grabbed Emily’s hand held tightly. He concentrated on the far end of the room and transversed away. He might not be able to fight Ramsey but he could keep the distance between them.

“So it is true!” Ramsey cried. Luckily all the Overseers and guards were unconscious and the only people in the room now were injured civilians on the ground. Ramsey pressed forward and prepared for another strike. 

Corvo blinked them away again. “You’re not getting near her. I can do this all day,” he lied. “What did Delilah offer you?”

“What I was owed!” Ramsey snarled. “My family lost everything! And after the dust settled all I needed was a small loan and some connections. But no!” He crept forward. “Her highness was too busy. A child! A damned child was too busy to save my family name and keep me among the nobility!”

 Ramsey lunged forward and then stopped in his tracks, mouth open. The tip of a sword pressed through his side and twisted, then twisted again. Kidney and liver. Fatal.

Ramsey collapsed to the floor and Alexi stood victorious behind him, clutching her bleeding stomach wound. 

She smiled softly at Emily. 

She fell. 

“Alexi!” Emily crawled to her. “No! No-no-no-no-no-no.” Emily chanted the word through tears as if it had the power to undo this. She cradled a bleeding Alexi Mayhew in her arms in a scene that was far too familiar to Corvo.

 He fell to his knees beside them and stared at his little girl through stinging eyes. Alexi lifted a shaking hand and touched Emily’s face. It was tender and Corvo felt like an interloper in their moment.

“I thought you’d been relieved of duty,” Emily said through sobs. 

“I was,” Alexi whispered hoarsely. “But I promised to protect you. I don’t need a uniform to do that.” 

The blade must have hit something important because the pool of blood underneath Alexi was spreading fast. Corvo averted his eyes, to let the two of them say goodbye. 

“Highness!” someone shouted!

“Lady Emily! Corvo? Are you here?” came another familiar voice.

“Sokolov? Hypatia?” Corvo tried to stand up and wave, but had to settle for jingling his chains. “Here!” he shouted. “We’re down here!”

The physicians were carrying medical bags and shuffled down the aisle to the main floor. 

Emily sniffled and wiped her face with her sleeve. “Can you save her?” she asked them. “Please. Please tell me you can save her.”

Sokolov didn’t answer. His eyes were focused as he tore open Alexi’s shirt. The wound was jagged. Ramsey’s blade must have been serrated. 

“Oh dear,” Sokolov mumbled. But he pulled on a pair of gloves from his bag as Hypatia did the same. The pair got to work as Alexi swam in an out of consciousness.

“She’s losing blood too quickly,” Hypatia whispered. “We need more time.” Her hands kept working but her eyes didn’t look hopeful.

Time. 

Corvo spied the signature blue vials peeking out of Hypatia’s bag. With some elixir, he could give them that.

Corvo tried to rifle through the bag but his hands were still chained to his waist. “Emily,” Corvo said. “If you want her to live, give me that elixir.”

Emily pried the cap off the vial, hand slippery with Alexi’s blood, and lifted it to his mouth. His magic was returning slowly but the elixir gave him just enough of a boost to return him close to full strength. 

Corvo kneeled next to them as they worked on Alexi, who was fading fast. 

“Empress Emily,” Sokolov said, voice low and apologetic. “I’m doing all that I can. If I could stop the bleeding… If I had more time…” 

Corvo flexed his Marked hand and kneeled between the doctors. He reached out to gently touch Sokolov and Hypatia with the tips of his fingers. The word turned grey around them. 

Emily clung to him and gasped. The four of them sat crouched in a world of stopped time. 

“What the–”

“Father?” Emily asked, shaken. 

“Sokolov, Hypatia. Hurry,” Corvo demanded. “You have more time now. But I can’t hold this for long.”

Sokolov gaped at the open wounds on Alexi, still present but frozen in time and not bleeding. But he quickly regained focus and the old physician wiped down the area and hurried to suture the wound alongside Hypatia’s nimble fingers. 

Emily poured another elixir into Corvo’s mouth when he started to grow weak. It took several doses to hold time at bay but eventually Sokolov leaned back and Hypatia wiped her brow.

Corvo heaved an exhausted sigh slumped forward as time resumed again.

“That does it,” Sokolov announced. “For now. She’s still critical but she’s got a chance.”

The unconscious guards began waking up around them, all groaning and cursing as they struggled off the floor.

Corvo jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was High Overseer Khulan.

“What happened?” 

Corvo shuddered. “Ramsey tried to kill Emily.” He nearly succeed too. “If it hadn’t been for Alexi…”

Hypatia’s hands were steady as she finished closing the wound. 

“Will one of you run and fetch a stretcher?” Sokolov asked. There was a pause. “Now.”

A guard snapped to attention and ran out into the hall. 

“Will she…” Emily couldn’t even finish the question. 

“We’ve stopped the bleeding but that’s only a temporary measure. However, if we can get her into surgery immediately we can save her.” Sokolov turned and looked at Corvo. “I promise.”

“What are you two doing here?” Corvo asked. 

Sokolov groaned as he rose to his feet. “We came to see the trial of course.” He winked. “When the trouble started we ran. No sense being trampled. But we stayed outside in case we were needed.” He looked to Alexi. “I’m glad we did.” 

The guard returned with a medical team and they loaded Alexi onto the stretcher, with Hypatia scolding them about jostling the patient. Corvo watched as Emily fought the urge to follow them out to the waiting railcars. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she had.

But Emily stayed. 

“Unchain my father!” Her face was cold fury as she turned to Khulan. “That witch admitted in open court, with hundreds of witnesses, that her plan was to stage a coup!” Emily said. “My father discovered her plot and so she launched a campaign of deceit to discredit me. He’s clearly innocent!”

“Innocent of the murders, so it seems. But that doesn’t change the facts of his case with the Abbey, Your Highness.” Khulan twisted his hands. “He still bears the Outsider’s Mark. He’s still a heretic.”

Emily snarled and pushed both hands flat against Khulan’s chest. “I don’t care!” She shoved. Hard. 

The nearby Overseers and guards were wise enough to stay out of this and Corvo stepped between them. 

“Emily,” he said softly. “It’s alright.”

“No! It’s not alright!” Corvo tried to reach for her but his hands couldn’t leave his hips. Emily flung herself at him and buried her nose in his neck. “It’s not alright. None of this is. First mother. Now maybe Alexi. I can’t lose you too.” 

“Alexi will live. Sokolov and Hypatia are two of the best physicians in the Isles and wouldn’t have made that promise lightly.” He did his best to hold her. “And I’m not dead yet.”

They held each other while officials and guards cleared the area and treated the injured. For the most part, they were left alone, even by the Overseers.

Without the music boxes, Corvo knew he could make a run for it in all the confusion. He could posses a guard and walk out of the court house without anyone noticing.

But then there’d be no denying what he was. He’d have to run the rest of his life. He wouldn’t dare risk visiting Emily, not even in secret. And with a fugitive heretic father, there’d be no shortage of nobles looking to continue Delilah’s work and unseat her.

No. He’d stay. He would protect Emily for as long as he could and make sure her reputation didn’t suffer because of him any more than it already had.

When they finally separated, Khulan stepped to his side. “Corvo, we’re still sifting through what happened here and our ranks are going to be stretched thin. I’m…” He fidgeted with his fingers. “I’m going to take you back to Coldridge now, and I’d appreciate it if you went quietly.”

Emily stiffened next to him but Corvo squeezed her hand. “And what about Delilah?” he asked. “She’s still out there and she’s about to escalate her plans.”

“We’ll be consulting the Oracles to find her.”

Corvo barked a laugh. “I already told you the Oracles might be compromised.” He took a bold step forward and got right in the High Overseer’s face. “Besides, I know where she’s fled.”

Khulan narrowed his eyes. “How?”

“I’m still the Royal Spymaster. I have active spies in Dunwall and one of my them reported in during the trial.”

Khulan balked. “During the–” He shook his head. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? You could be leading us into a trap or trying to escape.”

Emily stepped to Corvo’s side. “If he really was a heretic like you claim, he’d be long gone already. Your music boxes are tinder and there’s nothing to stop him. And yet,” she waved her hands around the room. “Here he is.” She crossed her arms. “And he’s not leading you into a trap, because I’m coming with you.” 

“Lady Emily, I can’t possibly ask you to–”

“I’m not leaving my father’s side until this is over.” She punctuated the statement with a finger to Khulan’s chest. “And that’s final!”

There was a tense moment as Emily and Khulan stared each other down— two people each tasked with enormous power, testing each other’s will. 

It was Khulan who backed down. “Very well, Your Highness. I’ll arrange for a staging area to be set up nearby and we’ll plan our next steps together.” He looked to Corvo. “With your father’s intelligence to guide us.”  

Khulan led him by the elbow as another wave of emergency responders combed the room. “I’m sorry, Corvo,” he whispered. “You were telling the truth about Delilah and…” He looked around, but the other Overseers were helping the guards and scattered civilians. “For what it’s worth, I believe you about how you came to have his Mark.” 

Corvo sighed. “But it doesn’t change anything with the Abbey, does it?”

“No.” Khulan swallowed. “I’m sorry.” 

“Then don’t bother with your sympathies. Just help me kill Delilah, and protect Emily after I’m gone.”

Khulan’s voice was solemn when he answered, “I will.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys, here’s Ch 24! The fic is going to go on hiatus for a few weeks while I get Ch 25 written. But once Ch 25 is done, the rest of the chapters will resume at weekly update schedule. Subscribe for email alerts!

The Imperial Navy vessel charged up the narrow channel of the Wrenhaven, churning the murky waters. Far from subtle. 

Corvo would have preferred sneaking in, doing reconnaissance and taking the stealthy approach to Brigmore Manor. He tried to convince Khulan to take a smaller force and go in quietly, but he wouldn’t hear of it. A grand show of force was more the High Overseer’s style when it came to heresy of this scale.

Overseers and soldiers of the City Watch shuffled nervously above and below deck. It was dangerous for such a large vessel to navigate this far up the river, but High Overseer Khulan was focused like a hound scenting blood on the wind. 

Corvo spent the journey under heavy guard, chained to a bolt in the deck. The feeling of manacles on his wrists and the bruising on his knees from kneeling was nothing compared to the stabbing pain in his head from the Overseers’ music. He was so distracted he didn’t even notice Emily on deck with him until he felt someone stroking his hair. 

“Is that necessary?” Emily snarled at the nearby Overseer.

“Apologies, Empress,” he said, with no respect in his tone. “But we can’t risk him getting free.”

“He came voluntarily!” she snapped. “You people let the real witch escape, and now you’re taking it out on an innocent man!”

“Lady Emily.” Corvo turned towards the sound of Khulan’s voice. “I’m sorry, but Corvo isn’t above the law. As a heretic he must—”

“Alleged heretic,” she said, head held high. “Delilah fooled you all about the murders. For all you know, the rest of it is lies as well.”

Khulan shook his head. “Your Highness, the Mark is plain for all to see. You can’t honestly believe—”

Emily fixed him with a stare cold enough to freeze the oceans themselves. Corvo tried not to smile. He kept his face low and his posture passive as she rounded on Khulan. 

“You’ll unchain him this instant. We’re almost to the manor and the battle could begin any moment. If it’s as dangerous as we think, he has to defend himself.”

“He could turn on us!” cried one of the Overseers.

Emily didn’t even bother to face the man. She snapped her fingers in his direction and commanded, “Quiet!” She kept her eyes on Khulan and continued. “If you don’t unchain him, he’ll be killed. You may as well execute him right now.” 

Corvo’s heart pounded behind his ribs and he hoped none of the observing Overseers took her bluff as tacit permission. 

There was a long silence before Khulan spoke again. “Unchain him,” he said, barely audible over the rushing water and wind.

The man guarding him hesitated, and for a moment, Corvo wasn’t even sure he heard the order correctly either. 

“Do it.”

From his position on his knees Corvo saw a pair of well-polished boots appear in his periphery. High Overseer Khulan repeated himself. 

“You heard me. Unchain him.” The boots moved to in front of him and Corvo dared to look up. Khulan regarded him with strained composure. “He told us about Delilah from the very beginning. And, as Her Highness said, he came willingly.”

“Sir, he’ll run,” the Overseer said.

“Perhaps. Which is why…” Khulan took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “If he betrays us in battle or runs from his judgment, Empress Emily will be charged with heresy in his place.”

Corvo balled his hands into fists so tightly he felt the bones begin to crack. 

“However,” Khulan continued, “if he fights with us against the witches he’ll be granted a painless execution and a proper burial.”

“Now just you wait!” Emily poked at Khulan’s chest. 

“Emily!” Corvo snapped. He shook his head and pleaded with his eyes. It was the best offer Khulan could make and Corvo knew it. He bowed his head to the High Overseer. “I came here to fight Delilah and protect my daughter. I swear on her life, I won’t run or turn on you.”

Khulan nodded, satisfied, and the Overseer guarding him fumbled with the locks. 

Corvo breathed a sigh as the chains fell from around his wrists and ankles. Emily helped him to his feet and pulled him into a tight hug. 

She buried her face in his neck. “If you get a chance to escape, I want you to take it,” she whispered.

Corvo shook his head and whispered back. “No. You’ll be charged with heresy. I won’t leave you.”

“I’ll fight the charges.” Her voice was hoarse. “I don’t care if you’re a heretic. I won’t let them—”

Corvo pulled back and kissed the tip of Emily’s nose and took a long look at the young woman she’d grown into.  

“Emily, I’m not going to do anything stupid. And I don’t want you to either.” He brushed a tear from her face with his thumb. “I love you so much.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “And there will be so many people who want to take advantage of the chaos after I’m gone. You’ll need a new spymaster and–”

“Exactly why I can’t let them kill you,” she hissed under her breath. “Who else can I trust?”

“Someone will come along,” he said. Corvo tried to imply his meaning as he locked eyes with her. It wasn’t safe to talk about it here, so the best he could do was squeeze her shoulder for emphasis. “Trust me.” 

Emily frowned and narrowed her eyes. But with so many Overseers standing around, she didn’t ask for the details. 

The ship’s engines whined as they slowed down and the convoy approached their destination. All around him the Overseers checked their pistols. Somewhere below deck he heard the sound of a whetstone grinding steel to sharpness and Vice Overseer Byrne barking orders. After what happened at the courthouse, Byrne insisted on joining the assault, against Khulan’s suggestion he remain safely away from the action to preserve the line of succession within the Abbey’s ranks .

Corvo worked out the tension in his shoulders and tried to perform a few subtle stretches without making the Overseers nervous. He had no idea what they were going to be facing at Brigmore manor but he knew Delilah wouldn’t go down easily. 

Emily must have been thinking the same thing. 

“Doesn’t he get a weapon?” she asked Khulan. She motioned to her own sword and pistol. 

The Overseer nearest to them snorted. “You can’t be serious.”

“He’s supposed to fight at your side, isn’t he?”

Khulan stepped between them and handed Corvo a sword and a service pistol. Neither were the quality he was accustomed to, but they’d do. Before the guard could say anything Khulan lifted a hand for silence. 

“He’ll fight with us. If he doesn’t, he knows the consequences.” 

“High Overseer,” Byrne called from behind them as he emerged from below deck. “I understand your reasoning, but tactically this makes no sense. If we let Attano fight, we’ll need to have one of our Overseers guarding him with a music box at all times. We add one heretic to the battle and lose one Overseer.”

“You shouldn’t even have come with us, Liam,” Khulan grumbled. “But to answer your concerns, Corvo won’t be fighting under guard.” The wave of shock flowed across the deck. “He will fight, with or without magic, and then face his fate. It’s as simple as that.”

Corvo stood tall among the gathering crowd of flabbergasted Abbey brothers and flipped the sword experimentally to gauge its weight and balance. All of the Abbey personnel except Khulan flinched backward. 

Corvo looked Khulan in the eyes and said, “I already told you in my official statement, I don’t have magic.” He glanced at his left hand and shrugged. “I don’t know how this got here.” 

“So you’ve said.” Khulan rolled his eyes but didn’t correct him. After all, the truth of the matter was discussed off-the-record and Khulan was a man of his word.  “Since you’re fighting with us, is there anything else we need to know before we face Delilah and her coven?”

Corvo nodded and walked over to the small stack of crates where the Overseers had produced a crudely drawn map after they discovered the original blueprints missing from the city records office. They all kept their distance as he examined the papers. 

“One of my spies was out here a few days ago. She said there were half a dozen witches on site, although now that Delilah has been exposed she may have brought more with her. They’re sure to be guarding the effigy I told you about.” And they’d be on alert by now, too. There was no way a lookout hadn’t spotted their ship coming up the river. 

Khulan crossed his arms. “You never did explain how you had time to communicate with anyone.” 

“I am still the Royal Spymaster. I have my ways.”

Khulan didn’t look amused. “You have someone in the coven?” 

“No.” Corvo ran hand over his face. “I wish.”

Khulan dropped the matter. They had bigger things to worry about. “And this effigy is what will defeat her? How?”

“I’m not sure.” Byrne scoffed and mumbled something under his breath. Corvo shot him a glare. “Despite what you think of me, I don’t know anything about magic rituals. But I do know Delilah went to a lot of trouble to hide this thing because it has the ability to make her vulnerable.” Corvo ran his hands along the smooth paper. “We need to figure out how to use it against her. And then kill her.”

“Not a problem for the Brothers of Abbey,” said Byrne, looking down the tip of his nose at Corvo. 

“Don’t underestimate her,” Corvo warned. “When I was in Karnaca I saw saw her perform magic I couldn’t even understand.”

“And you didn’t think to alert the Abbey.” Byrne smirked. “I wonder why.”

Surrounded by this many Overseers it was foolish to get riled up but Corvo couldn’t help himself. He slapped his Marked hand on the crate and leaned over towards Byrne. “Because I wasn’t sure your people could be trusted.”

“Enough!” Khulan pulled Corvo back by the collar of his shirt and shot Byrne a stern look. “Both of you.” His voice echoed in the sudden silence as the ship engines cut off and the anchor splashed into the Wrenhaven’s shallow channel. “We fight together.”

As they readied for battle, Corvo noticed many of the City Watch soldiers offered to stay behind to “guard the boat” while the Abbey dealt with the witches. One of them contritely asked Emily if she’d be watching the battle from the shore or staying on board.

Emily squared her shoulders. “That witch accused me of murder and tried to take my throne. I’m going to be there when she takes her last breath.”

The soldier sputtered out a “Yes, Your Highness,” and scurried away. 

The Overseers marched in unison to the shore, with Corvo at the center of the group. If they put him up front he’d take the brunt of the resistance, but they’d also risk him running. Putting him too near the back risked him slipping away. So, he was placed in the middle. Emily walked at his side. 

They made it all the way to front gate of the manor without any sign of the witches. The only sound in the air was the rush of a nearby waterfall and the sickening Overseer music. What if Delilah wasn’t here? What if the coven had already abandoned this place?

A howl cut through the air and the group went still. It sounded like a hound screeching in pain. But all of the Overseer’s hounds were accounted for.

“Men!” Khulan called out. “Be ready!” He turned to Corvo. “Any idea what that was?”

Corvo gripped the hilt of his sword. “Some sort of hound conjured by magic and bone.” At least that’s what Cecelia had whispered to him in the courtroom. “But I’ve never faced them myself.” 

Khulan went thin-lipped and nodded. “Void-spawned hounds it is then.” 

The shrieking howls grew closer and the Overseers readied their weapons. Corvo and Emily stood shoulder to shoulder. 

The first of the hounds burst through the overgrown bushes around the manor and a volley of bullets tore through their gnarled flesh. But the creatures kept coming!

The Overseers closest to the front shot and stabbed at it, and the hounds screeched in fury. Corvo cringed at the sound.

The witches weren’t far behind. Three of them appeared out of thin air in the trees above them.

“Get down!” Corvo shoved the Overseer nearest to him just before a whalebone sword descended from above. 

The witches scattered into the crowd of Overseers, screaming and slashing, but one of them turned her sights to Corvo. He blocked her easily, but she summoned a vine from the ground beneath him. Corvo hacked at it and her in quick succession, trying to defend himself on two fronts. 

His hand tingled with magic begging to be used. Whatever powers these women had through their bond to Delilah was nothing compared to what he could do. But Corvo held back. He was surrounded by Overseers and needed to maintain his innocence. He’d use his powers only if it meant saving Emily’s life. 

He held off the woman in front of him while the Overseers cut down the other two with very little effort. The hound tore through the crowd, risen again from its wounds, and made a path straight to Emily. 

“Behind you!” Corvo cried out.

Emily spun around just in time and skewered the dog through the head as it launched at her. The magic holding its form together collapsed in a burst of air and sizzle of electricity. 

In the distance, more hounds howled.

“The skull!” Emily called to everyone. “Destroy the skull to keep the dogs down!”

As if summoned, two more hounds charged at them from inside a dilapidated greenhouse. But this time they were ready. Corvo and Emily stood side-by-side and aimed their pistols in unison. 

The shots rang out across the unkempt lawn of the manor and the dogs shattered into dust. 

The group of Overseers encircled the two of them— whether to protect Emily or keep him from fleeing, Corvo wasn’t sure— and waited for another attack. But nothing came. 

After a few tense minutes, the High Overseer spoke. “I want all men with music boxes stationed here, at the crypt and around the back. Scale those trees to get back there if you must! I want a perimeter those witches can’t escape from!” Byrne opened his mouth to protest but Khulan raised a hand to silence him. “Corvo won’t run.”

Corvo bowed his head solemnly in agreement.

They pushed forward into the house. The front doors were barely hanging on their hinges as the Overseers shoved through. The inside of the manor was just as derelict as the outside and Corvo was half afraid it would collapse around them. His heart lurched in his chest as he made a quick inspection of the support beams. Collapsing the house on the invading Overseers wouldn’t be a bad plan for the coven, but the bones in this section of the manor looked undamaged. 

They moved as a group with High Overseer Khulan at the front, when Corvo felt something sharp poke him in the back. 

“If this is a trap, heretic,” Byrne hissed behind him, emphasizing his words with the tip of his sword, “I’ll kill you before you have a chance to run.”

Without the music boxes playing nearby Corvo could slip away, despite Byrne’s threats. But he wouldn’t. 

A scurrying sound drew their attention and the group pressed further into he house. Corvo took a risk and adjusted his vision. The world tinged orange around him and Corvo swiveled his head. Traps were inevitable if the coven was as small as he suspected.  

Khulan led the group into what had once been a large banquet room. The sound of shuffling feet led them further into the house and Corvo could make out the vaguest silhouettes in the distance. There were two women standing around the corner hallway at the very end of the room. 

They continued forward, Byrne’s sword pressed to Corvo’s back, and he saw the women disappear just before the High Overseer rounded the corner. Definitely a trap then. But what?

“Wait!” Corvo rushed forward pulled Khulan back. Half a dozen pistols cocked and aimed at his head, but Khulan waved for his men to stand down. 

“What is it?” Khulan asked. 

“Something isn’t right. They’re… leading us down this hall. It’s a kill box.”

“And you know this how?” Byrne hissed behind him.

“Years of training and good instincts,” Corvo replied.  He crouched low and focused his vision down the hall. No tripwires or explosives. But… There! Inside the walls! Corvo could make out the twisting gnarled vines Delilah was so fond of. The hallway wasn’t load-bearing and the walls were made of thin wood and crumbling plaster. Easy enough for the things to punch through. They’d be attacked on both sides if they moved forward. 

Of course, Corvo couldn’t say how he knew that. 

He grabbed a nearby piece of debris, the remains of some old pottery, and chucked it down the hall. 

The wall splintered apart and two vines lashed out at the decoy.

The Overseers scrambled back.

“Fire!” Corvo shouted. “Destroy those things with fire!” 

Overseers hurled grenades and the blasts rumbled through the house like a shockwave. But when the smoke cleared, the vines were gone, and the hallway partially collapsed. Still, there was enough room for the group to maneuver through. 

Corvo felt a hand squeeze his shoulder. He turned to see Emily smiling at him. 

“How did you know?” she whispered. 

Corvo squeezed her hand in return. “Like I said, I have good instincts.” Emily raised an eyebrow at him and Corvo sighed. “It’s what I’d do, if I were in their position. Lay a trap in a narrow hall.”

At the end of the hall, they heard more scrambling, but this didn’t sound the coy shuffling of feet leading them towards an ambush. Panicked whispers and heavy items being dragged along creaky floors told them the witches were up ahead. And if Cecelia told him the layout of the house accurately, that room was a dead end. The witches were cornered. 

Khulan signaled for the Overseers to flank the doors and he pulled Corvo behind him. Corvo cast Khulan a curious glance but the High Overseer wouldn’t met his eyes. “Keep Her Highness back,” he whispered to Byrne. The Vice Overseer did as he was told and led Emily to the end of the hall. She tore her arm away from his grip and looked to Corvo. 

“Go with him, Emily. Just in case.”

Emily sighed and allowed Byrne to lead her away from the action. For now.

The sound of the music boxes muddied the air and the crack of gunshots echoed outside. Khulan drew his blade. “Some of the coven must be trying trying to flee.”

Corvo smirked. So much for their loyalty to Delilah. 

Byrne grinned in the back. “They won’t escape the judgement of the Abbey!” 

Khulan signaled to the men around him and counted down with his fingers. When he reached one, the Warfare Overseers burst through the door. Khulan and Corvo were right behind them.

The fight inside was crowded and chaotic. A few witches appeared and disappeared, coming at them from all angles and slicing with whalebone swords. But the Overseers were trained for this, and so was Corvo. 

He charged forward through two witches who were trying— and failing— to form a barrier around something at the center of the room. 

Corvo bared his teeth when he saw what it was. Ashworth! And she was sitting at the center of a huge pile of half-completed construction and broken coffins! Her eyes were open but unfocused, and she held her hands with tense muscles in her arms, the same as when she performed the ritual that summoned Delilah! She was focusing her energy on something.

The witches around him swarmed and the two on the far side of the room, hands extended to form the flimsy barrier, fell to the Overseers. The barrier protecting Ashworth flickered and died. 

Ashworth didn’t seem to notice as High Overseer Khulan approach her, pistol drawn. 

“What is this?” he snarled. He peeked inside one of the coffins and reeled back, a hand flying to cover his mouth. “The sisters! The…” His eyes snapped to Ashworth. “The break-in at the crypt! It was you!”

Corvo had no idea what Khulan was talking about. But the coffins had Abbey iconography on them and and wires ran from the bones inside to the machine housing the lenses. They’d pilfered some Abbey cemetery for dead Oracular sisters it seemed. He could only guess about how they fit into the workings of the machines. 

Corvo watched as Khulan— red faced and shaking with fury— approached Ashworth. “What is this thing?” he demanded. “Tell me, witch!”

She turned to him. “I see… the High Overseer. He’s deep in the belly of a witches coven.” There was something wrong with Ashworth’s voice. It was distant and lilting, with not a trace her usual commanding tone. 

“That’s Sister Rosewyn’s voice!” Khulan gasped. He looked to Corvo. “You were right. They’re influencing the sisters!”

A shot rang out, and a bloom of red appeared on Ashworth’s chest. She collapsed forward. 

Corvo and Khulan whipped around to see Byrne lowering his pistol. “Not anymore they aren’t.”

Corvo rounded on Byrne. “We needed her!” he snarled. “We still haven’t seen Delilah! Ashworth was her closest lieutenant! We needed her information.”

Byrne rolled his eyes. “As if she ever would have talked.”

“Gah!” Corvo punched the wall. “You don’t know that!” 

“Enough you two!” Khulan said. “We can’t undo what is done. Let’s search for clues about where the witch has run off to.”

That’s when Corvo noticed something. As chaotic as the scene inside the room was, there was one thing conspicuously missing. 

The effigy wasn’t here. If it was anywhere, it would have been with Ashworth! 

Corvo scanned the room and his eyes locked onto a large indent in the sunken earth. He kneeled and traced the outline in the dirt. 

“The effigy! They’ve moved it!”

“Assuming your spy was telling the truth.” Byrne grumbled. 

Khulan stood over Corvo’s shoulder. “Something was here, Liam. ” He turned to Byrne. “Delilah can’t have gone far with it. The music boxes kept the witches from fleeing earlier. Everyone spread out!”

Emily poked her head into the room. “There’s something happening on the other side of the house!”

“In the collapsed section?” Corvo asked, rising to his feet. 

Emily shook her head. “It’s not collapsed anymore. It’s…”

A shaking Overseer appeared beside her. “Sir. The downed columns and the rotted ceiling… We had people surround the house but no one was guarding that section because it… I don’t know how it’s…”

“Spit it out!” Byrne snapped. 

“The collapsed section of the house is being repaired.” His voice trembled. “By some sort of magic.”

Khulan barked out orders as they prepared to move. “I want three men to stay here with Vice Overseer Byrne. Consecrate the area and render any heretical artifacts inert. As for that thing,” he pointed to the strange device— the Oraculum. “I want you to collect every bit of evidence you can. Preserve any diagrams or schematics you find. I want measurements and drawings of the device as it stands here before we disassemble it.”

Byrne frowned. “We should set it on fire and scatter the charred pieces to the sea.” 

“Normally I’d agree. But not this time. “ He locked eyes with Byrne. “These witches were communing with the sisters. Seeing through their eyes and pointing the Oracles’ visions at people of their choosing.” He looked to Corvo. “We need to understand how they did it, so we can take precautions and prevent anything like this from happening again.” 

Byrne nodded. “Of course. You’re right.” 

Khulan drew his sword and nodded at the remaining Overseers to follow him. Corvo marched behind I’m like a loyal soldier, even though it grated him to follow anyone’s orders but Emily’s. But they had a common enemy. For now.

They squeezed back through the damaged hallway and worked their way to the opposite end of the house— the part that should have been collapsed. It had been just before the breached the front door. But now…

Corvo gaped at the scene in front of him. Planks of wood, damp with rot, rose into the air and reassembled themselves. Thin vines wrapped around the bases of unstable columns and wound their way up, stabilizing the structures. The collapsed wing was righting itself. 

No. Someone was righting it. 

At the center of it all, Delilah stood in front a giant painting. The piece looked like it has been exposed to the elements for years. It was torn on the edges and mold grew through the wooden frame. But the image on the canvas was still recognizable. 

The Void. 

There were bags of pigment at her feet and Delilah used her hands to smear dark swatches of gray and black over the blue and purple vistas that used to color the Void. Her face was pale and gaunt. Her hands trembled slightly as she worked. 

Corvo took a few steps forward and saw why. A shimmering barrier was in pace around her, keeping her safe from the Overseers for as long as she could hold it. Between rebuilding the room to expose her painting and holding the barrier in place, Delilah was exhausting herself. 

“It’s over, Delilah!” he snarled. “You’re finished. Let down the barrier, and the Overseers will make it quick.”

She smirked. “Oh, I’m sure they will… for the both of us.” Delilah turned back to her work. 

Overseers attacked the barrier with bullets and blades, but nothing got through. 

“I thought you wanted my throne, Delilah,” Emily taunted. She stood with her sword at the ready. “You’re not going to take it from inside your little bubble. You can’t do anything from in there but wait to wear yourself out.” She paced back and forth in front of the barrier. “You certainly didn’t help your coven while they fought and died for you.”

“I’ll make you pay for killing Breanna. You have no idea what she meant to me!” Delilah snarled. 

Emily cracked the knuckles on her free hand. “If she meant so much to you, you wouldn’t have left her to die while she was communing and vulnerable.” 

“You don’t know anything!” Delilah screeched as the barrier flickered. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this! I was supposed to have more time! Time to build my coven and finish the Oraculum! Time to find the artifact! I had plans!” She smeared a fistful of pigment on the canvas. “I was supposed to descend on Dunwall Tower in a glorious parade with followers chanting my name!”

Corvo paced the perimeter of the field like a dog stalking a treed cat. “Give up, Delilah. You can’t hold that barrier forever.”

Delilah reached into the bag of pigments and delicately dotted a few more patches of canvas. “I don’t need to hold it forever,” she said through gritted teeth. “Just… long… enough…”

Her barrier flickered as her power drained further. Corvo stood ready to act as soon as the barrier went down. But before he could…

A crackling sound from overhead made him snap his gaze to the ceiling. The beams! The columns! Everything that had rebuilt itself to give Delilah access to the painting… it was all coming down!

“Look out!” he cried. He grabbed Emily and pulled her to him.

The Overseers scurried back to just beyond the entryway and the ceiling collapsed. The pressure drove the breath from Corvo’s lungs as he took cover. 

When the dust cleared, Corvo heaved a sigh. He and Emily were safe in a small pocket near the barrier. Delilah wouldn’t let it collapse so close to her it seemed. 

A coughing sound drew his attention. 

“Khulan?” 

The High Overseer dusted himself off and shoved a loose plank from on top of him. He stayed behind? He didn’t run with his men?

“Corvo,” he said with a nod. 

“High Overseer!” someone called through the debris. 

“I’m here!” Khulan shouted back. “We’re alright! Stay back men!”

The three of them faced Delilah and Corvo calculated their odds. It would be a tough fight, and he didn’t want Emily this close to the witch. He heard Overseers on the other side calling out. But Delilah didn’t seem concerned as her barrier continued to weaken. 

A flash of light burned his eyes and Corvo shielded his face with a hand. The painting! The images moved and twisted, coming to life on the canvas! 

“I wanted to ascend to godhood as an Empress with all the isles to witness my glory. It would have been so… fulfilling,” Delilah said wistfully. “Not like this. Hunted and running, and carving a place for myself in the Void.” She placed her hand flat against the canvas and the paint rippled like water. “But it’s always been this way. Me, denied what I deserve and forced to take it instead.” The rippling paint grew more turbulent and she blew a kiss to Corvo. “I’ll make sure he screams.” 

What she was planning dawned on him too late. “No!” Corvo slammed his fists against the barrier. But just as the barrier fell… Delilah stepped through her painting and out of his grasp.

“What? How?” Khulan took a nervous step forward. “Such magic…” 

Corvo stared at the canvas. He hesitated. He needed to follow her. He had to protect Ceòl. And yet… Corvo glanced over to Emily, who was wide-eyed at what she’d just seen. If he went after Delilah the Overseers would think he’d run. They take it out on Emily. 

“Khulan,” he said softly. “Let them know I didn’t run.” He took a step towards the painting. “Let them know I kept my word and went after her.”

Corvo stared into the representation of the Outsider’s realm.  He flexed his hand and felt the magic crawl up his arm. He could still fight her. But this fight would probably be his last. He took Emily’s face in his hands, and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.  

Her lower lip trembled. 

Corvo looked to the painting, their window to the Void. He took a steadying breath and prepared himself.

“Wait!” Emily grabbed his shoulder. “I’m going with you.”

“Emily, you can’t.” He turned to face her and swept a stray bit of hair from her face. “It’s too dangerous. If anything happens to you, the Empire–"

She stamped her foot for emphasis like she used to do as a child. “And if anything happens to _you_ , I’ll be too distraught to run the Empire and someone will oust me anyway.” Her voice trembled and she whispered, “I can’t lose you.” 

“Lady Emily! Wherever that… passage leads, there will be dark magic at work. If you were contaminated or corrupted in any way–” Khulan cried as he reached for her. 

But Emily slapped the High Overseer’s hand away. “I’m not leaving him.” She squeezed Corvo’s shoulder. “We fight her together.” She looked nervously at the images the canvas. “Wherever that takes us.” 

Corvo felt a hand on his other shoulder as Khulan stepped to his side as well. 

“I cannot allow Empress Emily go without someone to protect her from… whatever is through that thing.” Khulan’s jaw was set tight as he stared straight ahead. “The Strictures will guide us.”

They stepped through the painting.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO SORRY about the long hiatus. I had some stuff going on in my life and then had a difficult time getting back to writing afterwards. I know a lot of you thought this fic was abandoned, and I don't blame you. But I always intended to finish and now... a chapter update! The rest of the fic is nearly finished as well, the final chapters just need to be polished up and edited. Look for chapter posting on Sundays. :D
> 
> And since this chapter is long af, please let me know about any typos in the comments. I’m cross-eyed and tired, so there are probably dozens I’ve missed.

The cold of the Void was a stark contrast to the warm musty air of the dilapidated manor.

Corvo turned to Emily. Her eyes were wide as she slowly spun, taking in the strange sights. He could only imagine what she was thinking. Emily’s shoulders were tensed but she didn’t move from her place at his side.

Khulan wasn’t taking their situation as gracefully. Corvo sighed as the High Overseer began muttering under his breath. Corvo couldn’t quite make out what Khulan was saying, so he reached over and placed a hand on his arm.

Khulan’s wide-eyed gaze snapped over to Corvo. “We should not be here.” His voice was a strained whisper. “No one should.”

Emily frowned. “You came willingly. Insisted on it, even.”

“This is…” Khulan shivered. “This is the Void.”

Corvo kept his voice soft and nonthreatening. “Where did you think we were chasing Delilah?”

“I don’t– I didn’t know–” Khulan shut his eyes tight and took a few steadying breaths. When he opened them again, he’d regained his composure. “You’re right. I came with you for a reason.” His hand fell to his sword. He kept it sheathed but stroked the hilt a few times. “I will not falter.We’re here to end the witch.”

Of course, first they needed to find Delilah in all of this and Corvo had no idea which way to lead them. Apparently, Emily was thinking the same thing.

“Where to?” she asked.

Corvo scratched the back of his neck. “That’s a good question. This isn’t exactly a place you can navigate by sight. I always…” He hesitated. “I always had a guide before.”

“A guide.” Emily furrowed her brows. “Before.” Her expression hardened and she pointed to the symbol on his hand. “How long ago? I may as well know the whole truth now.”

Corvo answered matter-of-factly. “Twelve years.”

Emily inhaled a sharp breath. “After mother…”

Corvo stepped in close. “I took what the Outsider offered me so that I could find you and keep you safe. But I never worshipped at shrines or performed any morbid rituals.” Corvo paused. That wasn’t entirely true, was it? He lifted his hands to Emily’s delicate jaw. “I never did anything that would have made you ashamed of me.”

Emily nodded. “Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Yes. Alright.” Emily sighed. “I’m not happy that you lied to me for over half my life, but I understand why you had to. And we have other things to worry about at the moment.” She looked around the Void and took in its swirling mass. “Like how to find Delilah without your guide.”

Corvo moved to the edge of the floating island and looked around, as if he might spot a familiar landmark. He had no idea which way to go without some sort of sign. There had always been a clear path to follow before, but now they just floated aimlessly in the Void. He stared off into the distance and listened.

The sounds of the Void were definitely off. It was like listening to an out-of-place note that throws off the progression of a scale. Something was wrong here.

A thud beneath his feet jolted Corvo’s focus back to their island. Then another massive bump nearly caused him to lose his balance on the edge. He backpedaled to the center of the stone as a leviathan drifted up from underneath them!

Emily gasped and Khulan reached for his sword.

“Don’t worry.” He motioned for Khulan to put his weapon away. “It’s not aggressive.”

The giant beast floated near the ledge and wailed a sound that echoed through the Void. It circled the rock, eyes always tracking them, and thumped the bottom of the island with its massive tail.

Emily inched closer to Corvo. “What’s it doing?”

But Corvo was just as confused. “I don’t know. It’s never been this agitated before. Usually it just drifts.”

The whale cried out again. That’s when he noticed the streaks of red on its flank and belly. It was injured.

Corvo walked to the edge of the island and gently reached out to the animal, trailing his fingers along its flank. Something was caught in one of the gashes and he pulled it loose from the wound.

“What is it?” he heard Emily ask behind him.

Corvo spun the giant thorn in his fingers and held it out to her.

“From one of Delilah’s vines? So she is out there.”

Corvo nodded. “And I think it knows where.”

The leviathan continued to circle them but didn’t make a move to lunge or take anyone into its massive jaws. It just drifted around and cried, occasionally thumping its tail against the island as if to prod at them. But there was nowhere to go and Corvo had no idea what the beast wanted.

The sound of cracking stone made them jump and a section of the island extended out, forming a long winding path into the distance. The whale drifted along the path just ahead of them, crying into the Void.

“I think it wants us to go this way.” Corvo waved them forward. 

They followed the whale.

The Void stretched out towards infinity before them. Corvo kept a wary eye on their surroundings, in case Delilah struck from somewhere in the darkness. But no attacks came. There was only the great vastness and the uneasy feeling of being watched. He didn’t like this new Void, and judging from their tight shoulders, Emily and Khulan were intensely uneasy here as well.

“The Void wasn’t always like this,” Corvo told them. “It used to be… almost peaceful.” Khulan narrowed his eyes. “It was still strange of course, but not like this.”

“Did you spend a lot of time in the Void?” Khulan asked through gritted teeth.

Corvo squared his shoulders and looked the High Overseer in the eyes. “I used to,” he admitted. “But I haven’t been back in a long time. Not until recently.”

“Why not?” Emily asked.

That was a complicated question to answer. Corvo wanted to avoid talking about Ceòl and buried memories, so he opted for a practical response.

“The Void underwent some changes several years ago and it wasn’t safe for me to visit anymore.” He extended a hand and swept it across the dark expanses. “There were no more foreign beaches or Pandyssian orchards. Just turbulence. And so the Outsider…” He trailed off for a moment. “He stopped drawing me to him.”

“Why did the Void change?” Emily wondered aloud.

“Delilah.” Corvo sighed and looked out into the distance. “She tried to kill the Outsider and take his place. It didn’t work but the attempt caused a great deal of turmoil.”

The whale was still drifting along the path, seeming unconcerned that they’d fallen behind.

Corvo continued. “The two of them fought and the Outsider had her cornered. But then she escaped the Void and became our problem.”

“Did you know Delilah was behind the plot against me when you left for Karnaca?” Emily’s asked.

Corvo’s stomach lurched. “No. I swear.”

Emily wrapped her arms and herself in the cold and avoided his eyes.

“Emily, if I had known the plot against you was supernatural, I would have told you. Told the Abbey even! I wouldn’t have left you in the dark about something like this. I didn’t find out who was behind the plot until after I was in deep cover and out of communication. Whatever else you might think of me now, know that I would never endanger you.”

Emily sighed and looked around. After a few moments of silence she said, “Beaches and orchards, hmm? So, Delilah tried to take over your favorite vacation spot?”

“It wasn’t a vaca–“ Corvo scratched his beard. “It was different than this, but it was still the Void. It was always dangerous. I just…”

“You had a guide.” Emily narrowed her eyes and motioned to the whale, now a small silhouette in the distance. “Him?”

His eyes slid to Khulan, who was staring at his feet as they shuffled forward and reciting strictures under his breath. “No,” Corvo whispered. “Someone else.”

Corvo closed his eyes and thought about Ceòl. _“Where are you?”_ he wondered. But there was no answer, only the sickening noises emanating from the center of the Void.

They continued walking.

Corvo glanced back at Khulan periodically. The High Overseer followed close behind them but seemed to be lost in his own mind, trying to shut out the Void around him by reciting the Strictures.

He was on the Fourth Stricture now.

"Restrict roving feet that love to trespass. They pay no heed to the boundary stones of other men's fields. They wander into foreign lands, only to return with their soles blackened by iniquity.” He wrung his hands and gulped. “Where have you strayed that destruction now comes behind you? Would you walk across burning coals or broken glass? Then why do you prowl into the homes of the honest, or into the dens of hidden things, for the result is the same. You will fall into the Void! Instead, rest your feet on a firm foundation so that when the winds of the Outsider shriek against you, you will stand firm and not be overthrown."

Corvo watched as Emily’s face grew tight, annoyance radiating off of her features. He placed a hand on her shoulder just before she opened her mouth to say something to the troubled man.

“Let it be,” Corvo whispered. “As long as he helps us with Delilah I don’t care how he handles his personal crisis.”

They walked.

And walked.

The path stretched out into the endless distance, taking twists and turns around other islands. At first, the floating hunks of stone were empty. So the first time an image shimmered to life on the center of the nearest island to them, Emily nearly stumbled backwards and into the abyss before Corvo could catch her.

“What?” she gasped, eyes wide.

On a tiny slab of floating rock just to to the right of them, a familiar scene was frozen in time. Emily raised a trembling hand to her mouth and shoved back a sob.

“Mother.”

Empress Jessamine lay bleeding out on the stone of the garden gazebo as Corvo cradled her in his arms. Burrows and Campbell sneered while the City Watch closed in with drawn swords.

Emily had been taken by Daud before Burrows’ ‘reinforcements’ arrived, Corvo remembered. She never got to say goodbye to her dying mother. She never saw Jessamine’s final moments. Until now.

“What is this?” Khulan asked, his voice hoarse.

“A memory,” Corvo replied. One that had haunted him for years. He tore his eyes away from the scene. “We need to keep moving.” Corvo squeezed Emily’s hand gently motioned for her to follow.

More scenes shimmered to life along their path. One showed a young Emily huddled in the corner of an attic room at the Golden Cat with tears drying on her face. Another featured her coronation, the innocent smile on her face a startling contrast to the despair of the last tableau.

Corvo took a steadying breath. The entire course of his daughter’s life had been changed by a few power-hungry advisers and an assassin who never said no to coin. The entire Empire could have crumbled because of the selfishness of a few powerful men.

The next tableau made Corvo’s mouth gape. This wasn’t anything the Void had drawn from their memories. It was Meagan! She was much younger in the scene before them, but he still recognized her. She and another young woman cowered at the foot a carriage that looked to have nearly run them over. Radanis Abele stood over Meagan’s friend with a wicked grin on his face while a young Luca jeered behind him.

The scene shifted, and the images warped into new poses. Now the young woman lay on the street with her head split open, and Meagan’s hand wrapped around the hood ornament from the nose of the carriage.

Corvo’s eyes widened in realization.

Oh.

Was this what Meagan wanted to confess to him before he left for the Tower? Was she trying to confess to the murder of Radanis Abele? From the looks of the scene, Corvo couldn’t say he blamed her for doing what she did, nor for going on the run. But then the scene changed again.

Meagan appeared several years older now. Her face was thin from hunger but she held her head high and gripped a whaler’s mask in her hands. She stood among a group of similarly dressed assassins around a blueprint of Dunwall Tower.

Corvo’s blood ran cold. No. Please not her. He felt his mouth water and he fought the urge to retch over the edge into the Void.

She had been one of the Whalers! She was one of Daud’s followers during the coup! In all likelihood she’d been there when Jessamine was killed.

Corvo clenched his fists and tried to slow his breathing. He’d worked with Meagan, slept on her ship, planned with her and trusted her. And all this time she’d had Jessamine’s blood on her hands! But before he had time to explore the depth of his outrage, another tableau appeared.

All three of them froze in their tracks at the next set of Void-conjured images.

In the ruins of the flooded Financial District, a younger Corvo Attano towered over a grievously injured Daud. It was strange watching this scene from the outside. Corvo swallowed thickly. Just seeing that man’s face again made him wish he’d done things differently.

At the time, Corvo had been so exhausted from the fight— not to mention weak from the lingering poison still burning through his veins— he’d barely been able to see his downed opponent clearly. But here in the Void, that image of Daud looked well and truly beaten, crouched and tightly grasping the oozing wound on his side. He stared up at the younger Corvo, frozen in time with sword in hand.

“I’m glad.”

Corvo snapped his focus to Emily.

“I know you don’t kill often, but he deserved to be an exception. You rid the world of a monster that day.”

Corvo opened his mouth, but no words formed on his tongue. He never told Emily the full story. When she’d asked about Daud he simply told her that the assassin would never hurt anyone again. She’d taken from that statement what anyone would. And Corvo never corrected her.

How could be possibly tell her? How could he tell his daughter that the man who killed her mother still lived? And how could he ever tell her the truth about why he’d spared that monster’s life? Over the years, Corvo had concocted many imaginary explanations for why he’d lowered his blade that day. He told himself he made the conscious choice to be a better man. He created a story inside his own head about rising above his anger. Showing mercy to someone undeserving. Giving a monster a second chance to use his power for good.

But seeing the scene here in the Void, Corvo was forced to face the true reason Daud still lived.

They kept walking.

Scenes flickered to life and dissolved away from random slices of their lives. Even the parts some them couldn’t remember.

Corvo stopped in his tracks when another tableau revealed a younger version of Emily seated at a piano next to… Ceòl. Her head was thrown back in laughter as he sat playing a tune, wry smile painted on his face.

Emily stared at the scene. “I don’t remember this.”

Corvo didn’t reply.

“Father? Who is he?”

Corvo cast his gaze downward. “Sometimes the Void shows alternate versions of your life. This… must be one of them.” He turned away and continued along the path.

Another scene materialized to the left of them featuring Ceòl. Corvo’s stomach dropped.

This time Ceòl was in Corvo’s old chambers, laying shirtless on the bed. His body was spread out in invitation as Corvo crawled on top of him. He glanced nervously to Emily, who was clearly drawing her own conclusions about how that evening had played out.

Emily crossed her arms and turned to him. “I suppose this is an ‘alternative version’ of your life too?” But when the corners of his eyes began to sting her posture softened.

“No,” Corvo whispered. “He was… We were…”

Emily lowered her eyes. “You could have told me.”

“It was short-lived.” Corvo turned away from the scene. “Come on. Let’s keep moving.”

He didn’t deny that the last tableau had happened. But there was still no easy way to explain it. “You know, the Void does show other realities. Sometimes,” Corvo said defensively. “It can reveal possibilities for how things can play out in different situations.”

“Seeing ‘alternate possibilities’ was probably useful for a spymaster,” Emily thought aloud.

“It was.” Corvo looked out over the vast darkness, so different than it was in those days. “I stopped an assassin with something I gleaned here. Sometimes the things I saw in the Void helped me solve dilemmas. It was useful.”

Khulan grumbled behind them. “Whatever assistance you think the Outsider gave you, I guarantee there was a price.”

Corvo’s knuckles creaked within the tight fists he held at his side. The price was coming in the form of an Abbey execution, not sinister trickery from the Outsider. But he bit his tongue and continued on the path. After all, he still needed Khulan’s help.

The next tableau featured a young boy no older than eight being dragged from a small house. The boy’s father remained stoic but the mother looked ready to froth at the mouth. The scene rotated a bit to reveal the large kitchen knife she gripped behind her back.

Khulan stopped and stared at this one. Corvo looked from him to the face of the young boy. Oh.

In past generations, the majority of Overseers joined the Abbey willingly as teenagers or adults. In the last few decades, however, that had begun to change. Most young men within the ranks now had undergone the Trials of Aptitude as children, whatever those trails entailed. Even as Royal Spymaster, Corvo wasn’t privy to the specific details.

Khulan was old enough that Corvo had assumed the man joined the Abbey voluntarily, before childhood recruitment had reached its fever pitch. Overseers rarely had outposts as far north as Wei-Gon and what little presence they did have there wasn’t focused on recruitment. So why had they traveled so far to take the boy? There was a story there, Corvo was certain.

But this wasn’t the time to ask.

“She threatened to slash the Overseers’ throats when my father saw them marching to our door,” Khulan whispered to himself. “It was all he could do to calm her when they came for me. She didn’t think I’d pass the trials. She said…” His voice cracked. “She said I had too good a heart for the Abbey.”

She wasn’t wrong, Corvo thought.

* * *

 

Corvo couldn’t be sure how long they followed the endlessly expanding path of stone. It felt like hours, but back in the real world they’d probably only been gone a matter of minutes. He wondered how they were going to explain themselves to the Overseers when they stepped out of that painting back in the manor.

If they got back at all, Corvo reminded himself.

“Father!” Emily whispered as she tugged his sleeve. “Look!”

Up ahead a dark outline was visible through the mist at the top of a long ramp. Another island! And the path seemed to end there. Corvo held out a closed fist to signal Emily and Khulan to stop. He turned and held a finger to his lips, mouthing ‘silence.’ He crouched low and they approached their destination.

Near the top of the ramp, Corvo quickly recognized the orderly lines of stone men and the altar at the center of the scene. This was the island Ceòl took him to before, the one where he said he’d tried to imprison Delilah.

From his crouched position Corvo couldn’t see much but he could hear voices.

“But daddy, why? Why can’t I go to court with Jessamine? I’ve been good and you said–”

“Now, Delilah. It’s just not a good time. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Corvo’s mouth hung open in shock. He didn’t recognize the voice of the young girl, but the second voice was unmistakable: former Emperor Euhorn Kaldwin. Corvo remembered him well from his early years in Dunwall. But he didn’t remember a young Delilah ever being near the Emperor. He risked a peek over the edge of the ramp.

Delilah was pacing around a still image of a young girl and Euhorn Kaldwin. It looked like a painting framed in stone. The image shimmered out of sight and a new one replaced it. This one showed two young girls, the one who was supposed to be Delilah and a figure he recognized from other artworks as a young Jessamine.

“It was her!” a tiny voice cried. “Delilah broke it!”

“No I didn’t!” young Delilah screeched. “She did. Jessamine threw the apple and it bounced off the–”

“And then you bumped the stand and it fell. You bumped it, not me!”

“Because I was dodging!”

“Girls!” A man’s voice cut through the air like a whip. “Enough.”

“Delilah broke it!” Jessamine whined.

The painting faded away.

“No I didn’t!!” Delilah screamed into the darkness. “She broke it! She always blamed me for everything! Everything was my fault. Nothing was ever enough. I was never enough!”

Corvo felt a tap on his arm. He looked to Emily.

“Was that mother? As a child?”

Corvo didn’t remember Jessamine that young so he couldn’t be certain. The Void might sometimes conjure alternate realities for consideration but it didn’t lie.

“I think so,” he whispered. “Delilah may have been telling the truth about her lineage. But that’s hardly important anymore.”

Emily nodded in agreement.

“Please, sir. If you could spare some coin.” Another painting sprang to life, this one of a young Delilah holding out a tin cup as people passed by. “My mother lost her position and needs money for a doctor.”

“Pfft, needs money for liquor more likely,” a gruff-voiced man replied.

“She has a broken jaw, you choffer!” young Delilah screamed.

The painting dissolved away.

“Those months of begging were good for one thing,” Delilah monologued. “I learned you only get what you’re willing to take. Once I started taking, rather than begging, I actually got ahead in life. Maybe mother would have lived if she’d been strong enough to do the same.”

The painting that appeared next made Corvo’s heart lurch in his chest. An adult Delilah stood in the Void— the old Void with endless blue skies— facing a giant pale face with pitch black eyes. The way the face was painted was abstract, all shapes with sharp angles that combined to make the image. It barely appeared human. Corvo wondered if the Outsider had actually appeared to Delilah that way or if this was an artistic interpretation of their meeting.

“I am the Outsider, and this is my Mark,” a familiar voice echoed.

The still image of Delilah replied, voice uncharacteristically full of awe. “The Outsider. I never thought you’d– why me? Why now?”

The Outsider’s voice was almost soft as he said, “You remind me of someone I once knew: a boy who was beaten and abused, suffering the worst his society had to offer. I see his anger in you. I see in you the potential he could have had.”

He hummed in thought. “But you’re different as well. He never fought back against what was done to him. But you _are_ a fighter. And you are also at an important crossroads in your life. With enough power, you could actually change things.”

“Change things how?”

“However you like. Chances are you will act like all the others before you, and yet… perhaps you will be the one who finally surprises me. I’m curious to see which path you choose.”

“Which path I’ll– What does that mean? What can I do with this Mark?”

“Whatever you like.”

The younger Delilah scoffed. “Nothing is ever that easy.”

The Outsider sounded smug as he replied, “Oh, Delilah. Regardless of which choice you make, nothing about the future you create will be easy.”

The image dissolved and Delilah lashed out with vines, whipping them to strike at where image of the Outsider had been.

“Hypocrite!” she wailed. “Liar!” She tugged at her short hair and grew red in the face. “I did as I liked and you had me killed! In the end you only cared about your favorite pet and his daughter!”

Khulan looked suspiciously to Corvo. “What is she talking about?”

“This isn’t the first time she’s tried for the throne. The Outsider stopped her once before.”

Khulan did a double take. “Why?”

Corvo rubbed his head. “He was vague about his reasons. He said there would have been dire consequences.”

“Then why give her power at all?” Emily asked.

Corvo furrowed his brow. How could he explain it without making the Outsider sound like a monster? His true motivations for handing out power to those select few people were, by their human standards, fairly monstrous. The Outsider gave Delilah her power simply to see what would happen.

Instead Corvo said, “We all make mistakes.”

Corvo risked another peek over the lip of the island while Delilah fumed. She was alone. Good. Then his eye landed on their goal. The effigy! It sat near the head of the altar, a grim partner to the statue of the cultist plunging a long knife towards the empty stone slab.

He had to get to that effigy and… do something. Damn Ceòl and his vague instructions! Supposedly he’d know what to do once he got close to the thing. And to do that, he had to go through Delilah. She was still immortal and no matter what they did to her, she’d bounce back quickly.

“Our best bet is shock and awe. We have surprise on our side. Overwhelm her from the beginning and hopefully stun her long enough for me to figure out the secret to that effigy.”

Emily’s eyes went wide. “You mean you _really_ don’t know?”

Corvo shook his head.

“I assumed you did and you just…”

“Didn’t want to tell the High Overseer about the specifics?” Khulan grumbled. “So did I. But since we truly are going in blind, you may as well tell me what you mean by ‘shock and awe.’” He looked to Corvo’s hand. “I doubt Her Highness and I have as much up our sleeves as you do, Corvo.”

There was no point in holding back. Not with everything at stake. So he filled them in on the plan.

Corvo struck fast and hard.

He appeared in front of Delilah in a flash. Before she had a chance to suck in a shocked breath, he flung her backwards with a sharp blast of wind to the edge of the ramp. She hit the stone with a thud and in an instant Emily and Khulan jumped out form their crouched hiding spots.

They moved as one, and drove their swords through Delilah’s chest, striking the stone underneath her with an audible crack. The tips of their weapons were definitely damaged, but it held the witch in place long enough for Corvo’s next move: a swarm of rats.

He rarely used this power. It brought back bad memories and caused far too much chaos for his liking. But Corvo gladly made an exception for Delilah.

She wailed as the rats nibbled through her expensive satin and velvet clothing and made contact with her flesh. Still pinned, she summoned vines to knock the rodents away, but Corvo summoned a second swarm.

With Delilah temporarily distracted, he turned his focus to the effigy.

The thing was even more grotesque up close. He knew the skeletal center was made of bone and the wings wrapped around the thing’s torso were some kind of hardened leather. The head itself was eerily similar to Delilah’s. He had to assume it was an altered mannequin head or maybe even something Delilah fashioned herself.

It remained motionless, upright on its base with blank eyes staring into the Void. Ceòl said he’d know what to do but nothing seemed obvious.

Corvo swung his Overseer sword in a wide arc, aiming at the head of the thing. His blade bounced off! He tried again, aiming for the center, but the thick leather absorbed the blow. He grabbed the service pistol on his his hip and fired. The bullet made contact and folded in on itself! It didn’t even penetrate an inch!

Corvo growled and risked a glance back to Delilah. What was he supposed to do that was so obvious? As long as Delilah’s spirit was contained within the effigy, her body couldn’t be killed.

“Corvo!” Khulan cried.

He looked back as thick vines wrapped around the swords pinning Delilah to the stone and pulled them free. The weapons clattered across the island and Delilah struggled to her feet. The last of the rats were dead and her wounds were already healed.

Emily shot him a questioning look but Corvo could only shake his head. The effigy was in tact and Delilah was still invulnerable.

Emily and Khulan each dove for their swords. Corvo readied his own and turned to face Delilah.

He knew better than to try and possess another Marked person, so he stopped time and aimed his pistol. Corvo fired every bullet in the magazine at Delilah’s head and when time resumed, he watched as they all hit their target!

Delilah dropped like a puppet with cut strings.

He held his breath.

“Is she…” Emily whispered. “Is Delilah dead?”

As if summoned by her name, the body on the stone began to twitch.

“Shit.” Corvo hurried to chamber more rounds. If bullets to the brain weren’t enough to do her in, he wasn’t sure what could.

Khulan, Emily and Corvo each took turns firing bullets and, while Delilah was momentarily distracted from healing, they rushed in to slash at her. But nothing kept her down for more than a few seconds. Khulan even risked getting close enough to sever her left hand with a swift slice of his sword. Delilah shrieked and her voice echoed through the Void as she clutched the stump to her chest.She waved her uninjured hand and a large vine knocked Khulan away with powerful force!

Corvo transversed to the edge of the island and caught him just before he fell over the edge. They both looked back in horror as Delilah’s hand regenerated out of a viscous black substance oozing from her arm.

“You cannot kill a god,” she snarled.

Corvo already knew that wasn’t true. His thoughts turned to Ceòl. He was somewhere out there in the Void, weak and growing weaker. Corvo looked out in the dark mists as if he might catch a glimpse him. He was sure to be watching, but keeping his distance.

The calm and stable Void with blue skies was long gone, and the chaotic Void that Ceòl returned to seven years ago had grown a bit quieter now, hadn’t it?Years ago, when he’d first reunited Ceòl with the new darker Void, the winds in this place had howled and whipped at his skin. Now the movement of air— or what passed for air in this place— was slower. Sluggish. The Void was still in turmoil but this signaled a different kind of trouble.

When Ceòl pulled him into the Void for the last time, the way he’d looked out into the distance was pensive and sad. It reminded Corvo of the way he saw the worst parts of Dunwall during the plague: like seeing something that was once great now crumbling to ruins.

What was it Ceòl said after the events of Stilton’s Manor? About Delilah’s escape through her crack in reality?

_“Delilah still has much to learn. She has no idea the chain of events she’s set into motion.”_

Now Corvo had an idea of what he’d meant.

“You may think you’re a god, but you’re not much of an observer!” Corvo barked. He waved to the darkness around them. “I don’t have to be a natural philosopher to recognize entropy when I see it!”

Corvo heard a sharp intake of breath at his side as Khulan took his meaning.

But Delilah’s face didn’t startle at his accusation. “Once I find the artifact that will allow me to merge with the Void and kill the Outsider, I’ll have the power to rebuild this place. The Outsider was just one more powerful person who gave me hope and then denied me what I wanted! I will have what was his and then I’ll take what is mine! With the Void at my command I’ll reshape the world to suit my needs!” She waved her hand and two vines snapped through the stone at their feet.

Corvo and Khulan dove to safety, barely.

“You’re a fool if you think this is a place that can be commanded by anyone!” Corvo cried.

“You don’t know that!” Delilah hurled projectile thorns at them. “Just because he was too scared and weak to exploit his full power doesn’t mean I will be!”

Corvo grabbed Khulan’s wrist and transversed across the island, to regroup with Emily. The High Overseer ripped his hand free once they were out of range of Delilah.

“I will have the throne I was promised!”

“That throne is occupied, Delilah!” Emily snarled, holding her chipped sword at the ready. “And I’m not giving it up, especially not to you!”

“You didn’t earn your throne, girl! You’ve never worked for anything you have. It was all handed to you on a silver tray. You don’t know how to rule your people. You don’t know their troubles and their desires! You don’t know how they suffer under the heels of your lackeys! You wouldn’t even know how to live among the people you rule and they all know it! How can they ever respect someone like you?” She sneered and launched another volley that Corvo was barely quick enough to deflect away with a blast of wind. “Your ‘loyal subjects’ certainly turned on you quickly, didn’t they?”

Emily stiffened. “I could say the same for some of your allies, Delilah!”

The three of them moved to surround Delilah and come at her from different sides. Corvo took led the charge, materializing behind her and ramming his sword through her ribcage. It had little effect but bought them time for Emily and Khulan to dart in and do the same. Though they’d never fought together, they were moving as a unit surprisingly well.

But no matter how many times they struck her down, Delilah always regenerated! Corvo was growing weary. Emily and Khulan were as well. Delilah launched another round of thorns at them and Khulan took one to the outer thigh!

Corvo summoned more rats to distract the witch while Emily tried to staunch the bleeding.

They couldn’t keep this up much longer and they all knew it. Corvo glared at the effigy. What was supposed to be so obvious here? Why did Ceòl say he’d know what to do?

Delilah recovered quickly and retaliated against Corvo. A vine grabbed him around the leg and flung him away from Emily. His head hit the base of the cursed effigy with a crack.

It took a moment for his ears to stop ringing but once they did Corvo could hear the supernatural hum of magic coursing inside the odd monument. Every magical item had a slightly different signature to the trained ear. Runes sounded deeper and wider than bone charms, which typically had a sharper tone, especially when corrupted. The sound coming from inside the effigy was different entirely, like a low vibrating trill. It reminded him of a growling cat.

Ceòl’s words about Delilah and her trapped spirit echoed in his head. _Reunite them._

Reunite them how? A spirit was intangible. It wasn’t exactly something he could hold in his hand…

Corvo’s blood went cold and he looked to his open palm. Except it was, wasn’t it? He held a spirit in his hand regularly. 

He summoned the Heart.

The space around him slowed to a crawl and stopped. Corvo looked about, confused. That had never happened before. His eyes grew wide as the beating heart in the palm of his hand began to glow and a familiar visage shimmered to life in front of him.

“Jessamine!”

Or at least… what was left of her. She appeared translucent and floated just above his extended hand. Jessamine looked around at the frozen scene. Her eyes landed on Delilah.

“I never knew what happened to my childhood friend. Father told me she and her mother moved to Tyvia.” She hung her head. “I don’t even recall what priceless thing it was we broke.” Jessamine gazed down at her hands. “One selfish lie, told as a child, and it rippled across the decades to bring such chaos to so many.”

“You were just a girl. You couldn’t have known.” Corvo hauled himself to his feet. “What she’s done isn’t your fault.”

“That is hardly a debate we have time for now. There are more important things.” Jessamine’s face softened. “Like Emily.” Jessamine reached for her but her hand passed through her daughter’s face. “She’s beautiful, Corvo. She grew up to be more like you than I imagined.”

“Jessamine,” he said, throat tight. “I tried my best to– I didn’t know how you would have done things, and I–”

“You did well,” she assured him. “I’m proud of her. Of both of you.”

Corvo nodded wordlessly as tears formed at the corners of his eyes. “What’s going to happen now?”

Jessamine looked upwards and into the blackness.

Corvo choked. “No. Please don’t go.”

“I love you Corvo. My entire life was blessed, but most of all because I had you by my side.” Jessamine looked serene as her likeness floated just out of his reach. “Don’t let yourself linger in the past. Look to tomorrow. Find peace, Corvo. Find happiness, laughter… and music.”

Corvo’s eyes stung as the light illuminating Jessamine grew blindingly bright. He reached towards her as she dispersed into the Void.

The Heart cooled against his skin and stopped beating.

He tried to call out but he choked on his own breath. He’d lost her again. Not again.

The hum from the effigy was getting louder and Corvo forced himself to turn towards it holding the empty heart of his dead lover.

The spirit within the effigy was drawn to thing in his hand like a magnet. He felt a tug as it connected. Light streamed out of the effigy in a flood! The heart grew warm in his palm and after a few tense seconds…

It began beating again.

Corvo remained perfectly still, eyes locked onto the transformed heart in his hand. It beat once more, but this time there was a blackened hue to the dead flesh. It was as if Delilah’s soul was tainting Jessamine’s heart. But he had no time to mourn. Corvo leapt to his feet as time resumed.

Emily’s sword had been paused mid-swing, and continued its course with a satisfying swish as it made contact with Delilah’s thigh. The witch snarled and stumbled back. And yet, like all her injuries in this fight, this wound healed before their eyes.

She was still invulnerable!

_Reunite them._

Corvo stared at the blackened heart in his hand. He aimed it towards Delilah, and squeezed.

The magnetic pull he’d felt before was nothing compared to this. The spirit inside the heart was practically ripped out and flew towards Delilah in a burst of blazing light! Delilah stiffened as if she’d been struck, eyes wide and mouth open in a frozen scream.

And Corvo watched in horror as the heart disintegrated in his hand. The last remnant of Jessamine was gone.

When the light subsided, Delilah let lose a shaky breath. “How did you manage to… You shouldn’t have been able…” she murmured, stunned. For the first time since this nightmare had begun Delilah sounded afraid.

Corvo made eye contact with Emily and Khulan’s questioning glances. He nodded. She was mortal again. They could finally end this. The three of them raised their swords and pistols in union and closed in.

But now that Delilah knew her life was on the line, she fought even harder than before. Vines punched through cracks in the stone around them and spun like blades. There was scarcely room to maneuver without getting stabbed by thorns! Every time they got close to Delilah she transversed away and they were left to navigate her minefield of tendrils again!

“How do we get to her?” Khulan huffed.

“She’s exhausting herself,” Corvo replied. “Keep pressing. She’ll tire soon!”

Emily fired another shot from her pistol and this bullet connected with Delilah’s gut! Blood began oozing from the wound and the vines faltered for a moment and the went still. But only for a moment. Soon the three of them were dodging thorns for their lives again. And they were as exhausted as Delilah.

Khulan was already injured and Emily was slowing down. Even Corvo with his powers was taking damage in the form of scratches and cuts. He looked to his bloodied allies. They needed to wrap this up soon.

Delilah stumbled and caught herself on the edge of the altar. She looked into the Void as another one of those stone-framed paintings appeared in the distance. This one was of a woman lying in bed. Her face was swollen and bandaged, while a young girl curled up on the floor nearby.

“My mother didn’t deserve her fate!” Delilah cried. “The only thing she was guilty of was having a round backside and being near the Emperor in one of his many moments of weakness. And because of him she lost her life!”

She flung more thorns as Corvo advanced on her. He dodged but Emily took a hit. The wound was shallow, however, and Emily pulled it free with little more than a flinch. Delilah was getting weak then. The three of them advanced.

But Delilah was only half paying attention to them as she continued to stare at the painting of her memory.

“After mother was fired from her position at the Tower no one would hire her. We were forced to beg! And honest beggars never last long in Dunwall. The guards were corrupt and they broke her jaw when she wasn’t able to pay their bribes.”

Delilah looked over her shoulder and lashed out with another burst of magic, but much weaker this time. Corvo was barely thrown back a few inches.

“She died from that injury. And I was left alone! So I vowed to take what I was owed, no matter what I had to do! So that I’d never end up buried in a child’s coffin like she was! That day I vowed my life would turn out differently!”

Delilah raised her arms over her head and screamed. Vines broke through most of the available footing that was left on the island and Corvo and his allies had to scramble to keep from being speared or ensnared.

Khulan let lose a startled cry as a vine caught him around the torso and lifted him into the air. Emily ran to his aid, but was knocked back. Corvo slashed at a tendril that caught him around the ankle. It was madness!

The vines whipped faster and faster, a mirror to Delilah’s desperate panic. They even damaged the stone men lined up around the island. One of the statues lost an arm, another a head. Even the one standing over the altar took some hits.

“Father!” Emily called as she freed Khulan. “We have to get close the distance!”

Corvo agreed. But he couldn’t see a way to get through the whirlwind of vines and magic without getting hacked to bits. The damned vines weren’t even aiming for them really! They thrashed wildly, in every direction, even snapping at each other and growing tangled.

He saw Delilah slump against the altar, face pale and eyelids heavy. She was too weak to control the vines’ movement. She was just keeping them flailing and hoping to get lucky. And Corvo feared she might.

A loud crack indicated another piece of statuary was down, only this time Delilah gasped. Corvo’s eyes shot over to where her gaze had landed.

At the head of the altar, the stone knife in the head priests’ hand had been struck. But instead of shattering to pieces, slivers of stone cracked off like a veneer.And beneath the surface of the stone facade, Corvo could see gleaming metal.

There was something underneath the stone!

The vines slowed in their frenzy, reflecting Delilah’s confusion. Then, they all came to sudden halt.

“Is that–” Delilah sputtered and tried to pull herself upright, half bent over the foot of the altar for support. “No. No it can’t be the real thing. He wouldn’t have left it…” She chuckled through bloody lips. “Oh, but of course he would. He would leave it right where it was, pretending it was just a stone memory. Too afraid to ever go near it himself.” She threw her head back and screamed into the Void, “A coward in all things! Well I’m not! I’m no stranger to sacrifice!”

She pulled herself up and over the altar towards the knife.

Corvo didn’t know why it was important, but if Delilah wanted that knife he had to stop her. But before Delilah’s fingers made contact, the knife disappeared in a burst of light and smoke!

“No!” She slammed a fist on the empty slab of stone, but there was little force behind it. She had lost a lot of blood. “Where did you send it? Where did you hide it? No matter what you do, I’ll find it!”

Had Ceòl taken the knife from Delilah? The vines were sagging to their roots now and Corvo’s thoughts were interrupted by Khulan.

The High Overseer staggered forward, nursing several minor injuries as well as his leg wound. “It’s time to finish this Corvo. If you won’t, then I will.”

There were so many questions Corvo wanted to ask Delilah. Who else had she bribed within the aristocracy? How many guards had she corrupted? What other threads of her conspiracy still had to be unraveled? But he’d never get a straight answer. Khulan was right. It was time for this to be over.

He aimed his pistol at Delilah’s head as she lay prone atop the altar, hand reaching wistfully towards the empty spot where the knife had been. Her face twisted in fury and frustration as she tried to move her legs. Corvo’s finger slipped off the trigger when he saw why.

Emily and Khulan noticed it the same moment he did. Delilah’s feet were slowly turning to stone!

The dark grey rock climbed its way up her legs as she struggled to move, cursing under her breath and seemingly oblivious to the gun pointed at her.

Corvo lowered his weapon.

Emily raised a hand to her face. “What is happening to her?”

“Don’t you dare pity me,” Delilah spat. “I accomplished more in my life than you ever will, girl. I nearly became a god by the force of my own determination and cunning. You were handed an empire as a child and wasted every chance you had to do anything with it.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Emily said as she limped towards Delilah. “Maybe I am a spoiled noble with no idea how the world works. I didn’t earn my place on the throne and the people don’t care about me. But they wouldn’t have cared about you either. You were only interested in fighting your injustice. Poverty and corruption hurt _you_ and that’s the reason you’re angry.”

Emily pulled her shoulders back and stood tall as the black rock encased Delilah’s torso. “Well, I’m angry too! I’m furious that I was so wrapped up in meetings about maintaining order that I never gave any thought to what I wanted to change! And you probably won’t believe me, but I’m furious about what happened to your mother. It wasn’t fair, and I’m sure it’s happened to countless others right under my nose. And when I return to Dunwall I will spend every day of my reign trying to make things better!”

The stone creeped up Delilah’s body, inching towards her neck.

“And if you ever cared about the people, and not just yourself,” Emily added, “I hope you take some comfort in that.”

Stone covered Delilah’s snarling face, and her curses fell silent.

* * *

 

The trio caught their breath in the cold. It was over. 

Finally, Emily asked the obvious question. “So, how do we get out of here?”

Corvo smiled. “You may as well show yourself. I know you’re here.”

He heard a familiar sound behind him and turned around with open arms. Corvo wrapped Ceòl in his embrace and held tightly.

“You couldn’t have done that sooner?” he whispered in Ceòl’s ear, eyes darting to the witch encased in stone.

Ceòl pulled back. His eyes were still green. “She had to be mortal for it to work.”

“Is she dead?”

Ceòl shook his head. “No. She’s frozen just before the moment of death. Too weak to break free from the spell, but not weak enough to disperse into the Void. I can’t risk killing her again. It didn’t take the last time, so stasis seemed a safer option.”

“And now that she’s out of the picture, are you going to get stronger?” Corvo dared to hope.

Ceòl pulled his lower lip between his teeth. “With Delilah gone, I’ll begin to recover some strength. I may never be what I was but I’m not in any immediate danger.”

Corvo opened his mouth to ask about whatever long-term danger Ceòl was clearly omitting from his explanation, but was cut off when Khulan cleared his throat.

“So, this is your young lover we saw in those memories, Corvo? A heretic practicing magic in the Void?” He crossed his arms and sneered. “Every time I think you can’t possibly shock me any more than you already have…”

Ceòl grinned. “Are you going to arrest me, High Overseer?”

Khulan looked to Ceòl, then to Delilah and back. “That was your magic?”

Ceòl nodded.

Khulan took a deep breath through his nose and seemed to consider their situation carefully. “Pray I never see you again, heretic. Because I will arrest you if I do.”

Ceòl held his head high as his green eyes flooded black. “You are welcome to try, Yul Khulan.”

“The Outsider!” Khulan drew his sword and lunged forward, but Corvo pushed Ceòl behind him and blasted Khulan backwards with a gust of wind.

“Don’t touch him!” Corvo shouted. “I’ll let you kill me, but you will not harm him.”

Khulan’s face paled and his arms wet limp ay his sides. “I never knew you at all, did I?”

It stung more than it should have, after everything that had happened. But Corvo supposed Khulan was right.

Ceòl stepped out from behind Corvo’s back, now that the immediate threat was gone. Corvo watched as Ceòl shifted his gaze back and forth between him and the High Overseer.

“Thank you for helping defeat Delilah, High Overseer.” Ceòl almost sounded sincere. “Despite your low opinion of me, she would have brought precisely the sort of doom and chaos your order rattles their sabres over.”

Unsurprisingly, Khulan didn’t accept the thanks.

Ceòl shrugged and turned to Corvo. “I never expected you to bring Khulan here,” he whispered. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “And that decision alone has opened a new possibility.”

He ran a hand affectionately over Corvo’s face, tracing a cheekbone with his thumb. Corvo couldn’t help himself as he leaned into the touch. Then, Ceòl took a step back and grinned.

“Corvo,” Ceòl said as he sauntered towards Emily. “Aren’t you going to introduce the Empress to her new spymaster?”

Emily startled. “New spymaster?”

Corvo stared in open shock. What was Ceòl doing? Trying to get Emily charged with heresy after everything he’d just gone through to convince Khulan she’d had nothing to do with the occult before all of this?

Ceòl stood in front of Emily and bowed. “Hasn’t he told you? With Corvo’s impending execution, he’s arranged for his replacements. Alexi Mayhew should serve admirably as your Royal Protector once she’s recovered from her wounds.”

Emily sighed in relief. “She’ll recover fully?”

“She will.” Ceòl straightened his collar. “I’m tempted to comment on the Kaldwin tradition of sleeping with ‘the help’ but–”

“But–“ Corvo cut in, “you’re far too grateful for your life to be so crass?”

Ceòl grinned at him. “If you say so.” He turned back to Emily. “Corvo has asked me to take over as Royal Spymaster after his death.”

“He what?” Khulan gasped.

A wry smile tugged at Corvo’s cheeks. He had a pretty good idea where Ceòl was going with this and he winked at Emily when she looked his way for confirmation.

Ceòl continued. “Corvo doesn’t trust anyone else to have your best interests at heart in the volatile political climate you’ll be navigating the next few years. I will keep you apprised of developing political and social situations.” He placed his palm over his chest. “I can’t wait to finally have your ear.”

Khulan choked on his own saliva as he struggled for words, and Emily seemed to catch on to what they were doing.

“Hmmm. Well, I suppose if my father thinks you’re the best person to take his position, I have always trusted his judgment.” She rubbed her chin in thought. “Although I’m not sure how to go about worshipping you. I’ve never had any interest in that sort of thing.Should I… build a shrine?”

“There’s no need for that.I’ll come to you in your dreams. Shall we meet three nights per week?”

Khulan stumbled towards them, red-faced and frothing. “Highness, no!”

Ceòl turned to him, confused. “Not often enough?” He nodded. “Four nights per week, then.”

Emily hummed. “You would be able to provide useful intelligence.”

“I can see into people and places you’ve never even heard of.” Ceòl’s grin was all mischief. “Time has no meaning in this place and there is so much I can show you.”

Emily drummed her fingers along her bicep in consideration. “I will need a spymaster with eyes everywhere, won’t I? I can only imagine how many secret meetings are being arranged right now.”

Ceòl nodded. “You’re right. The Davenport family is going to give you a lot of trouble in Parliament. They’re in talks with the Winslow’s right now about forming a new voting block to feign support for you publicly while they undermine you behind the scenes.”

A tableau shimmered to life with both families huddled in a small parlor, several men studying a book of Parliamentary bylaws.

Emily clenched her fists at her sides. “The Winslows? I wouldn’t have expected that sort of backstabbing from them.”

“Highness!” Khulan hissed. “These could be lies. You can’t believe anything he–”

Emily cut him off with a gesture. “Quiet! You’re going to kill my current spymaster and you have no say in who I chose to replace him.”

“You can’t be serious!” Khulan cried.

“I’ll have to name someone human to serve in the role. Just for show,” Emily said to Ceòl. “Perhaps someone from within the Winslow family! Let them think they have an eye on me while I keep my eyes on them.”

Ceòl grinned. “Great minds think alike. I recommend Cornelius Winslow. The family is going to put his name on the short list of candidates to replace Corvo and he has secrets that would make your hair stand on end. He’ll be easy to manipulate and blackmail.”

Khulan threw his hands up in protest. “This is– you can’t possibly!” He looked to Corvo, pleading. “Corvo, how can you put her in this situation?”

Corvo crossed his arms. “How can _you_ put her in this situation? I know what my fate is, Yul. But I’ll be damned if I leave my daughter ill-equipped to handle the storm headed her way.” He waved to Ceòl. “He’s well-qualified and, more importantly, I trust him not to do her harm.”

That was about all Corvo could say. He knew Ceòl had no love for empires, nor human concepts of law and order. But if nothing else, he would do his best to protect Emily from coups and assassins.

Ceòl bowed his head slightly to Corvo then turned his gaze on Khulan. “This isn’t the sort of thing I normally do. I don’t like to interfere with the course of history in such a structured way.But Corvo has saved my life. Twice. And since I can’t return the favor, the least I can do honor his final request.”

“I’ll have to tell the Abbey! I have direct knowledge that the Empress plans to commune with the Outsider! I can’t let her stay on the throne if–”

Ceòl materialized inches from Khulan’s face and the High Overseer stumbled backwards. “And will you tell your brothers exactly how you know such a thing?”

The color drained from Khulan’s cheeks but he held Ceòl’s black gaze without flinching. “They’ll take my word.”

“They may,” Ceòl said with a shrug. “And then they’ll execute Emily and her father alongside each other. The nobility of Dunwall will scramble for the throne, plotting against and killing one another until the eventual victor has nothing left to rule but the ashes.”

Tableaus sprang to life all around them and Ceòl stared into the far-distance.

“Countless thousands die as faction wars between noble families rage out of control. Farms go untended and famine stretches on for years. Gristol slides into a state of economic and social decay not seen since the Rat Plague.” He turned to the High Overseer. “By the time the dust settles, you will be responsible for the the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people across all the Isles.” Ceòl barely suppressed a snarl as he quipped, “But at least you’ll be able to say you kept Emily from speaking with the dreaded Outsider about politics.”

The vein in Khulan’s forehead strained beneath his skin. “The sort of chaos you’d bring to the world through your influence over her could be even worse.”

Ceòl sighed and he dropped the act. When he spoke again, he sounded… tired. “If I wanted to influence your empress I could have done it long ago without you ever knowing.” He looked to Corvo and added softly, “I’m doing this because Corvo asked.”

A large glowing portal appeared at his side and Ceòl stepped back.

“You’re a decent man, Yul Khulan. You care about the people of the Isles. And you’ve been presented with a choice. I wonder what you’ll do next.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Ch 27 is going to be posted shortly, so hit refresh if it isn't showing up yet! Let me know what you think of this chapter. I love knowing your reactions! :D 
> 
> And feel free to point out any typos/mistakes. I am a bad proofreader. I re-read FM a few weeks ago and screamed at all the errors I found.

Brigmore Manor was unchanged when they re-entered. Time had little meaning in the Void and for all Corvo knew, they’d only been gone moments. The barrier of thick debris from the collapsed ceiling was still in place, trapping them in the ruined ballroom. They’d need to dig their way out.

“High Overseer!” a voice called from the other side of the rubble. “Are you in there?”

Khulan shouted back. “Men! We’re here! We’re alright!”

“Stand back, sir!” someone cried. “We’re digging you out but the ruins are unstable!”

The three of them pressed against the back of the room and waited for rescue while the Overseers on the other side got to work.

Corvo looked to Emily. Once they were free of this place she would have a lot to do and very few trustworthy people help her. He took her hand and squeezed.

“I love you, Emily. There’s so much I should have done differently. I should have trusted you with my secrets.” He hesitated. “There’s so much I still need to tell you. I wish…” But wishing wasn’t going to make up for the years of keeping her in the dark. It wouldn’t make any of this right. And they were nearly out of time.

Emily swiped the back of her hand against the tears forming in the corners her eyes and turned to face Khulan. “Cancel the execution,” she demanded. “Tell the others that you’ve decided to spare Corvo. I don’t care what you have to do, but the Abbey is not going to kill my father.”

Corvo expected Khulan to argue with her, to tell her there was nothing to be done about the Abbey’s judgment. But the High Overseer hung his head and rubbed a hand over his face. Finally he spoke.

“When the Brothers hear about what happened, when I explain that Corvo saved our entire world from dark forces, not just the throne…”

“They won’t care and you know it!” Emily snapped. She strode forward with all the confidence of a general and came nose-to-nose with Khulan. “You’re the High Overseer! You order them to call it off!”

“Things don’t work like that. He bears the Mark. He can’t just walk free.” Khulan frowned and rubbed his chin. “But maybe an exception could be made in favor of a comfortable imprisonment, or even some sort of guarded house arrest in a remote location. I’ll tell them about Corvo’s heroics in the…” He trailed off.

Emily quirked a delicate eyebrow. “Would you tell Byrne that you walked in the Void and met the Outsider?” She moved closer. “Would you tell them that in stopping Delilah you protected the Outsider from death?”

Khulan’s posture softened and his eyes darted to the rubble. “There were extenuating circumstances and once they understand–”

“They’ll execute all three of us together and Byrne will take your place as High Overseer.” Emily crossed her arms casually and motioned with her head towards the debris holding the Overseers at bay. “But by all means, if you have faith in their ability to make an exception…”

“So what would you have me do? Lie to them?” Khulan hissed.

“A lie for the greater good.”

Khulan soured. “A slippery slope, Empress.”

“I know.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know,” she repeated. “But think of the alternatives. If you kill Corvo, I get a new spymaster you like even less. And if you tell anyone about _that_ arrangement, I join Corvo in the grave and you risk the Empire collapsing around you.”

Khulan curled his upper lip and pulled away. “I can’t.”

Corvo stepped forward. “Yul, look at me.” The High Overseer turned his head. “I’ve had the Mark for twelve years. Whatever madness or corruption you’re worried about hasn’t happened to me. And it won’t.”

Khulan looked to the sky through a hole in the ceiling and whispered to himself. “The echoes of lies come back as the voice of the Outsider.” He sighed and rubbed his fists against his eyes. “Corvo I need you to summon some rats.”

Corvo froze. “What?”

“Why?” Emily asked.

Outside the room Corvo could hear the sound of men shifting planks and hauling away the rubble.

“We need to leave evidence of a fight,” Khulan whispered. “Hurry.”

Corvo flexed his hand and summoned a swarm. The rats didn’t attack his allies, simply sniffed around the floor in search of food. He felt terrible hacking them to bits with Khulan and Emily. 

He stared at the bloody mess on the floor in confusion. A pile of dead rats wouldn’t convince anyone a deadly battle had taken place in the ballroom. But suddenly the house shook with force strong enough to make the three of them stumble back. The center of the debris pile collapsed on one side and the bulk of it slid away. A mass of Overseers poured through the hole they’d made.

“High Overseer!” “Thank the cosmos!” “We thought you’d fallen!” They all gathered around in celebration.

“Brothers!” Khulan cried, and held his hands up for silence. “The witch is defeated!”

There was an uproarious shout from the crowd but it died down as the group parted for the Vice Overseer. Byrne made his way to the front, flanked on each side by men carrying music boxes.

“And the effigy?” Byrne asked.

“Destroyed.” Khulan pointed to a pile of half-carved and inert bone-charms in the corner. “Those things gave Delilah the ability to spawn anew after death as a swarm of rats. But once I sanctified them, her magic failed her and she succumbed to our blades.” He waved to the pile of fresh rat corpses at their feet.

Corvo grinned. Clever.

Byrne scratched his chin. “I’d heard rumors from Karnaca of such a thing: a witch who spawned into a swarm rats when killed, only to rise again. My intelligence pointed to a local gang leader named Paolo. But it was this woman all along?”

“So it seems, Brother.”

“And Attano kept his word?” Byrne asked.

“He did. He fought fearlessly and without the use of magic.”

Byrne nodded, solemn. “Then we’ll make his execution painless and quick. He’ll be allowed an Abbey funeral and–”

“Wait!” Khulan cut him off. “We were wrong.” 

“What?” Byrne narrowed his eyes at Corvo.

“Listen!” Khulan bellowed, and he turned to face the gathered Overseers with his hands raised for silence. “The Royal Protector had every opportunity to use the dark magics of the Void, and every reason to turn against us, but he didn’t. The witch–” His jaw tightened, barely noticeable. Khulan licked his lips and had the look of a man who had bitten down on a lemon. “We were all misled. We fell for her deceptions.”

The crowd of Overseers murmured in confusion.

“As we fought her, Delilah believed she’d be victorious, and she gloated. She said she used magics to place a false symbol on Corvo Attano’s hand without his knowledge– counterfeit and harmless, but incriminating nonetheless.”

Khulan raised his fists as if he were giving a sermon to the masses in Holger Square. “She reveled in the thought of the turmoil to come! With the Royal Protector dead and the throne in question, she planned to seize control of the empire and build a coven unlike anything we’d ever seen, dragging our world into chaos and then into the Void itself. But her plan will never come to fruition now, thanks to Her Highness and Lord Attano.”

“High Overseer?” Byrne stepped forward, eyes wide and questioning. “You’re saying…”

“Corvo is innocent. The thing on his hand came from the witch Delilah, used as a ploy to turn us against him.”

Some in the crowd were visibly relieved but others mumbled angrily amongst themselves, unconvinced.

“But sir…” Byrne clenched his fists at his sides.

Khulan squared his posture and looked every bit the commander of a holy army. “Liam, she manipulated the sisters of the Order. She sent them false visions to distract us from her coven. How difficult would it have been for her to place a counterfeit mark on someone?” Khulan stepped towards him. “Brother, listen to me. Despite his help in defeating Delilah, if I believed Corvo was a danger to anyone, I wouldn’t change course. You know this.”

Byrne’s shoulders sagged. “I do.”

“Then trust me when I say that his execution would be a mistake.”

~~~~~~~~

The Empress and the High Overseer led the victory march back to the river to symbolize the continued alliance between the Abbey and the throne. Corvo, unchained this time, walked at Emily’s side. The Overseers behind them kept a respectable distance.

Corvo whispered as they marched. “You did the right thing. I just want you to know–”

“Don’t,” Khulan hissed. “The lie I just told them, the things I’ve seen and the– the thing I helped protect.” The High Overseer stared straight ahead as they walked. “I reek of the Void. Even if my brothers don’t notice, I always will.”

“We saved this world,” Corvo pushed. “Kept it from being reshaped by Delilah’s will. How can you hate yourself for that?”

“I know what you did back there,” Khulan said. “I see it now. You were goading me, claiming you chose _him_ as your successor.” He shook his head. “Well it worked. I can’t risk Emily falling under his influence and so you have your life.”

Emily kept her gaze forward and face neutral, but her eyes sparkled with satisfaction.

Corvo smiled despite himself. “Fine. We were goading you,” he admitted. “But I meant what I said about wanting someone I trust to look after her when I’m gone.” Khulan grumbled curses under his breath and Corvo sighed. “Just admit it. He’s not what you thought.”

But Khulan refused to look at either of them. As they marched to the boat he recited strictures under his breath.

“Restrict the lying tongue that is like a spark in a man's mouth. It is such a little thing, yet from one spark an entire city may burn to the ground. The father of a lie will suffer a punishment compounded by each person relayed it. Better to live a life of silence than unleash a stream of untruth." Khulan shuddered. “Brothers, forgive me.”

* * *

On the journey back to Dunwall Corvo relished feeling of the wind in his hair, even as the Overseers scuttled away from him like children fleeing an angry tutor. He tore a piece of cloth from his jacket and wrapped it around his hand to cover the Mark again. It seemed silly to do it now that everyone knew it was there, but he’d had it that way so long it felt odd to leave it uncovered. Plus, if he was going to support Khulan’s story about it being given to him by Delilah he should act as if he hated the sight of it.

Corvo brushed a thumb against the back of his hand and closed his eyes. With Delilah gone, Ceòl would be alright now. _You’ll be alright, won’t you?_

A hand on his arm snapped him from his thoughts and he turned to face Emily. He pulled her forward and wrapped her in a tight hug that she eagerly returned.

“You were amazing, Emily.”

“I learned from the best.” She pulled away and lowered her voice. “That being said, I do think you and I need to have a talk.”

She scowled a bit and Corvo tried not to smile. Even as a grown woman and Empress, he would always be reminded of her puffy-faced pout as a little girl whenever she made that face.

“I’m sorry I never told you about…” He glanced to his hand, hesitant to say anything incriminating with so many Overseers around. “I didn’t want you to have to lie for me.”

“Well I had to do that anyway, and it was twice as hard not knowing what the truth was. I know you were trying to protect me, but the best way to do that is by keeping me in the loop on things.” She casually glanced around to make sure they were still alone and added, “And I specifically remember saying I wanted to know if you were involved with anyone. I understand why you didn’t tell me _who_ you were with, but you lied right to my face.”

“That part, I…” Where to begin. How should he tell her about his memories and what had happened seven years ago? Corvo sighed and took a step back. He looked at Emily— truly looked at her. She had grown into a strong and confident young woman, despite his missteps. “I’ll tell you all about him as soon as we have some privacy.”

Emily nodded and turned back to the water. “Good.”

Corvo noticed a grin spread across Emily’s face. Her cheeks were tight as she tried to school her features. “And just what is so funny, young lady?”

She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. Emily shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Out with it, while we can still speak freely.” Corvo glanced to the Overseers lingering just out of earshot on the opposite side of the deck.

“It’s the most inappropriate reaction to have, but I just realized…” She hesitated and nibbled her thumb.

“Emily?” Corvo wasn’t sure where she was going with this.

Emily’s eyes glistened with amusement as she stifled her laughter. “You have a type!”

“Excuse me?”

Emily nudged him with her elbow. “Pale skin and dark hair. Striking eyes.” She winked. “A secret relationship with a powerful person who grants you power by association…”

“Emily Drexel Lela Kaldwin,” Corvo scolded.

“You can’t deny it! You have a type! A very specific type.”

He groaned and playfully shoved her shoulder. Corvo gazed down at the river churning beneath them and his thoughts drifted to Ceòl. He was nothing like Jessamine. And yet…

Corvo sighed. He had a type.

“Enough about my personal life. What are your plans for Alexi’s recovery?” he teased.

Emily’s cheeks tinged red and she stared at the water. “I’m not sure. We never really talked about the future.”

“I was just turning it around. It’s none of my business,” Corvo assured her.

But Emily didn’t shy away from the topic. “What was it like for you and mother?”

Corvo’s jaw dropped.

“I mean,” she clarified, “was it ever a problem that she was your Empress? Did it complicate things? She had total control over you.” She swallowed and frowned. “Was it fair to you?

“Was it fair…” Corvo lowered his gaze. “Mind if I ask what prompted this line of questioning?”

“That comment the Out– the comment that _he_ made. About the Kaldwins and our legacy of… taking advantage of servants.”

Corvo’s stomach soured. “He didn’t say it like that. And I don’t think he meant it that way either.”

“I know he was just being snide, but it has me thinking about grandfather. If what Delilah said was true…”

“I wasn’t in Dunwall yet, so I don’t know what really happened.” Corvo thought about the whispers and rumors he’d overheard in his first few years at Dunwall Tower. “But if Delilah really was a Kaldwin, then she and her mother would have been considered a political liability. It’s likely that someone found an excuse to get them out of the picture before Jessamine was old enough to start asking questions. I suppose a broken ornament was as good a reason as any.”

Emily frowned. “Grandfather slept with that servant. He had a _child_ with her. And he just cast them aside.”

Corvo sighed. “It happens every day, unfortunately.”

She wrung her hands. “Their relationship wasn’t fair. He had the power to ruin her with a word. And he did. And I have that kind of power over Alexi. And Mother had that kind power over you. And–” She threw her hands up. “I want Alexi so much. But do I even have the right to pursue this? What if she wants to leave me one day and thinks she has to stay? What if she comes to resent me?”

Corvo drew Emily close and kissed her forehead. “Your mother asked herself the same questions when she and I started to fall in love.”

“Really?”

Corvo nodded. “She worried that she was taking advantage of me.”

Emily snorted.

“I loved her because she was the kind person who would stop to consider that possibility. She swore she would _never_ use that power against me and made a conscious effort to show me that she never would.” Corvo made deliberate eye contact with Emily. “There’s no such thing as a relationship that is perfectly equal. One person will always have more money, influence or power than the other. But as long as you’re both aware of it, willing to talk about it, and unafraid to confront those imbalances head on, that’s what’s important.”

He took a deep breath through the pain in his chest. “There’s so much in life that isn’t fair. But when it came to your mother and I— in our private life together, at the very least— we made it fair.”

“But you still had to keep your love a secret,” Emily frowned.

“She wanted to go public. More than once she tried to convince me that everything would be alright if we did.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“The part of me who loved her wanted to. But the part of me who was her Royal Protector refused.” Emily looked confused. “I knew she’d be putting herself at risk by going so blatantly against tradition. She’d already done it once by having you and I was afraid of what the nobility would do if she rocked the boat any further.”

Given what eventually happened to Jessamine, his fears weren’t unfounded.

“So she kept you a secret.”

“It wasn’t ideal for either of us, but in the end it was worth it. I’ve never regretted loving her, secret or not.” He squeezed Emily’s shoulder. “Alexi was willing to take a blade for you, both in and out of uniform. At least do her the courtesy of having a real conversation about it, and trusting her decision.”

Emily grinned. “When we get back, there’ll be a lot to sort out. But let’s arrange a visit to her hospital room as soon as she’s well enough.”

Corvo smiled. “Of course.”

Emily rolled her shoulder and looked to the sky. “But first, we have some people to bring up on charges of conspiracy before they have a chance to flee the city.”

Corvo nodded. “At least two high level Directors and a fair number of guardsmen.” It was going to be a circus trying to round up all of the people Delilah had turned to her side. Especially without the Heart to guide him.

He stared at his empty hand and tried to summon her. It was no surprise when his palm remained empty.

“Ramsey. All the nobles who flocked to Delilah. They had so much and yet they all claimed they were ‘owed’ even more,” Emily mused.

“They were greedy and selfish.” Corvo squeezed her shoulder. “Two things you aren’t.”

Emily smiled tightly. “I try not to be. But would anyone be bold enough to tell me if I was?” Corvo watch as Emily traced a scratch on the railing with her thumb nail. “Why do I deserve to sleep in the Tower while someone else sleeps in an alley? Why do I deserve this throne?” Her face was dark as she stared into the water below.

Corvo took a deep breath and gave the only honest answer he could. “You don’t.” Emily’s head whipped around and her face fell. Corvo held his hands up and continued. “I mean, no one inherently deserves to suffer or to rule. Sometimes people simply find themselves in a certain walk of life through no fault or triumph of their own.”

He and Emily stood together in contemplative silence for a while before she spoke again. “Maybe that’s why they all turned so quickly. Because I didn’t earn this. And as soon as Delilah started spinning her lies people were ready to believe it.” Her chin trembled ever so slightly. “Am I such a poor ruler that they’d believe a strange woman who just walked into the throne room? I mean, I know some of it was magic. The Oracles and the Duke’s double being manipulated and–”

“Actually,” Corvo interrupted, “the Duke really did betray you.”

Emily stilled. “So that man with Stilton _was_ the double.” She hung her head. “But the rest of them still believed that I was capable of ordering murders? Embezzling funds? Making bad trade deals to line my own pockets?”

Corvo reached out and took her hand. “I’ve spent so much time trying to shield you from everything that could hurt you that I also protected you from some harsh realities. There are some lessons I failed to teach you, but I’d like to start. If that’s alright with you.”

“What kind of lessons?”

“Emily, you need to understand what things are like for common people.” He’d lived so long in the Tower he’d forgotten what it was like himself. But his time in Karnaca forced him to remember.

Corvo thought about his home city and how much it changed in a few short years under Luca Abele. He also remembered how much worse it would have been without Aramis Stilton to stand unmoving in the face of that corruption, doing his best to push back. Stilton never forgot where he came from and used his privilege to make positive changes.

What Corvo saw of Delilah’s past made him realize that even though she may have been born with a darkness around her, it was the injustice she suffered as a child which sharpened her into someone deadly. He thought about Meagan and how the same societal inequalities killed her friend, branded her a murder and eventually led to her joining the Whalers. He shuddered thinking about her face behind one of those awful masks.

Delilah was unhinged and full of herself, but she wasn’t wrong about the unfairness of their world. And Emily had no concept of what it was like to be anyone other than an empress. But unlike Delilah, Emily had a good heart. It was somewhere to start at least.

“You don’t fully understand the kind of lasting impacts your decisions will make.”

Ceòl would certainly be able to tell her a thing or two about singular decisions creating lasting impacts in the world. But Emily needed to see some things for herself.

Corvo continued. “The fastest way for you to become a better ruler is to expand your horizons.”

“How?”

Corvo had been giving this some thought ever since he walked in the shoes of a commoner again.

“There’s someone in Karnaca I’d like you to meet.” 


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it!!! Part 2 is FINALLY FINISHED!!!!!!! I hope you guys liked it.

**The Silver Spike, 18 th Day of the Month of Clans, 1850**:

**An open letter to Serkonos from Duke Luca Abele.**

> People of Serkonos,
> 
> I’m still piecing together everything that was said and done in my name while an imposter ruled with my authority, but please accept my sincerest apologies for the hardships you have suffered.
> 
> During the early days of my captivity, I swore bloody vengeance! I ranted and raved in the vault where I was imprisoned, but my thoughts were only of myself, not of my people. Weeks turned into months while I watched the reserves of precious minerals and coin disappear from the vault as the witch Delilah funded her coup.
> 
> I began to wonder why no one had seen through the ruse yet. Was my double so convincing in my place that my own friends couldn’t tell the difference? Finally, realization dawned on me. What if no one noticed the difference because he was behaving every bit as badly as I ever did?
> 
> After all, I burned through an obscene sum of coin on personal luxuries with no thought to the people who toiled to produce that much wealth. And if my double was acting the tyrant, it’s no wonder that nobody had come to suspect something was amiss.
> 
> Rage turned to introspection. I had to face some hard truths about myself while I sat in vault full of riches. All that wealth at my fingertips and yet it was utterly useless to me. I began to fear I would die, alone and afraid, surrounded by the wealth I hoarded so selfishly. That fear caused me to consider what is truly important in life: friends, family, and purpose. All things I had been lacking.
> 
> Serkonos, I am a changed man. But I won’t blame anyone who doubts my word. I’ve given the people very little reason to believe my promises in the past while I spent lavishly and acted selfishly. So, today I make a pledge to all of you:
> 
> A new age is dawning in the Jewel of the South, and I am excited to share it with you in the coming years.
> 
> Your servant,
> 
> Duke Luca Abele

 Corvo folded the paper and tossed it over the edge of the bed. It drifted to the ground before a sluggish breeze caught it, and carried it into the Void. The newspaper continued to sink downwards for a few minutes and Corvo watched it until it was no longer visible in the darkness below.

Corvo chuckled to himself. “Armando is really committing to this Repentant Duke story.”

Ceòl was perched on the edge of the island, still as the statues in the distance. He was listening. Or watching. Or whatever senses he used when he tried to connect to the Void.

“He’ll need to,” Ceòl said. “If he has popular support from the common people it will be much easier for him to hold onto power when the nobility come to suspect he isn’t the real Luca Abele. And with the changes he has planned for Serkonos, he’s going need a large popular backing to stay in power.”

Corvo watched as Ceòl’s eyes shifted from green to black while the Void showed him countless possibilities. But Ceòl could only hold the black long enough to catch glimpses. For all his talk of growing stronger, Corvo knew Ceòl would never be the Outsider again.

Corvo sat up in bed and the satin sheet pooled around his waist. “What do you see?”

“Alexandria Hypatia will live with the guilt of Grim Alex’s crimes for the rest of her life, but the monstrous part of her will always be outweighed by the genuine goodness in her heart. She’ll spend the rest of her days trying to undo the evil she did.” He sighed. “She’s interesting.”

“How interesting?” Corvo’s eyes narrowed.

Ceòl grinned. “Not _that_ interesting. The power of my Mark would corrupt her fairly easily.”

Corvo furrowed his brow, unsure how to feel about that.

“That’s not a judgement of her character,” Ceòl explained. “Just a fact. Most human beings fail to use extreme power wisely. A good thing then that most are so powerless.”

He padded back to the bed and his eyes faded back to green as he crawled to Corvo’s side.

“So, Hypatia will try to make things right. I’m glad. What else?”

Corvo shivered as Ceòl traced the old scars on chest.

“Kirin Jindosh will spend his life in prison. He’ll even make few remarkable escape attempts in the coming years.” Corvo tensed, but Ceòl reached up and smoothed his hair. “All foiled by a clever spymaster. For Jindosh, the mental inactivity is more of a punishment than the physical. The escape attempts are for his amusement and the challenge. It’s unlikely he’ll trouble the empire again. Unless someone underestimates him, that is.”

Corvo chuckled. “I’ll have to be sure not to do that then. What about the bigger picture? Serkonos? Gristol? The isles?”

Ceòl looked up at him from where his head lay on Corvo’s chest.

“Or am I not supposed to know?”

Ceòl’s eyes went black again for moment. When he looked back at Corvo with human eyes he said, “Paolo’s people will be tempered for a time, but he will continue to struggle walking the line between misguided benevolence and his propensity for violence for the rest of his days. When he finally meets his end at the point of an Overseer’s blade, Mindy takes over the Howlers just like he would have wanted. And hers is a rage that cannot be manipulated so easily.”

Corvo swallowed. That was going to be a problem.

“Yul Khulan will struggle with what he experienced in the Void for the rest of his days. He’ll never confess what really happened to any of his Brothers, and for the rest of his life he will be filled with doubt about the Abbey and its mission. In his final years he will attempt to reform the Abbey of the Everyman into something more humanitarian and less authoritarian. He won’t succeed.”

Ceòl continued. “Aramis Stilton never stops mourning for Theodanis. He will never love again. But he will, with the help of Empress Emily, put forth new laws in Serkonos to guarantee basic rights to its workers. Scandalous among the nobility! But there will soon come talk from liberal lawmakers in Dunwall about replicating some of these policies throughout Gristol. Emily will back them.”

“And?” Corvo asked.

“And… time will tell. Emily may or may not be successful in these reforms. But she will try.”

Corvo couldn’t help but notice that Ceòl was suspiciously silent about Meagan Foster. She and her boat were long gone by the time he returned victorious from Brigmore Manor. She left Jindosh gift-wrapped in chains at the Dunwall Courthouse with a signed confession pinned to his lapel like a naughty school child who’d been sent home with a note from his teacher.

Meagan also left a note for Corvo in his private quarters. He didn’t even want to think about how she was able to sneak in there. He’d obviously underestimated her ability. 

> Corvo,
> 
> I’m sorry for taking off like this, but I don’t know what you’ll find when you go to face Delilah. I don’t know what she’ll tell you about me. I tried to confess what I’d done to you before you left for the Tower but you had other things on your mind. That, and I’m a coward.
> 
> If I was a better person I’d stay and face whatever judgment you see fit to give me. You were more than merciful to Daud. Maybe I’d get the same treatment. But then, Daud never lied to you the way I did. Seems all I’ve done is wear other people’s faces and use other people’s names.
> 
> I won’t blame you if you follow me. But if you do, just know that I have some things I need to take care of before you have your revenge. Hence, the head start.
> 
> Billie Lurk

 “I wish Meagan hadn’t disappeared like that.” Corvo exhaled deeply and let his head sink into the soft pillow. “I understand why she did. And now that I know what she was trying to tell me before I went to the Tower…” He considered his words. “I’m not sure how I would have reacted.”

“Not well,” Ceòl mused as he traced a scar below Corvo’s left pectoral.

Corvo watched the thin finger caress the thick scar tissue. That injury was one he’d acquired in the Flooded District after being poisoned. One of Daud’s men, perched on a rooftop near the rail station, got lucky with a throwing knife before Corvo silenced him with a crossbow bolt. In Corvo’s long career he’d killed far fewer people than most would assume, but he had killed. He wondered if that random Whaler had been one of Meagan— no, Billie’s—friends.

Corvo shook the thought away. “After everything that’s happened I wish I could find her.” He cast a glance to Ceòl. “I won’t look. Life’s too short and I have other things to keep my eye on. But, I wish I could tell her…”

Ceòl raised a dark eyebrow. “Tell her what?”

“Not that I forgive her. Because I don’t. I can’t.” He ran the tips of his fingers along Ceòl’s pale arm. “But I’d tell her she has nothing to fear from me. I’d tell her that whatever shadows are still chasing her, I’ve decided I’m not going to be one of them. After all, I didn’t hunt for Daud.”

Ceòl’s fingers froze in their path. “I never did ask _why_ you spared Daud. Of all the ways you’ve surprised me over the years, nothing comes close to that moment.” His finger moved to the scars on Corvo’s stomach. “You don’t have to tell me, of course.”

Corvo sighed and covered his eyes with his forearm as he waded through those memories. “After I was poisoned, captured by the Whalers, fighting my way through that nightmare of a district… all I wanted to do was lay down and die. But I kept pushing forward because Emily needed me.” His breath hitched. “I wanted to slaughter every Whaler I saw but I was exhausted and weak. Each time I chose to cross blades with one of them I was taking a risk. If it was my own life I was risking, I would have done it gladly but…”

“You didn’t want Emily to lose her only remaining parent.”

“Exactly.” He slid his arm away from his face and looked at Ceòl. “Then I got to Daud. I was so careful the whole way through his base and then I heard his voice.”

Corvo’s breath quickened and he shook his head. How foolish he’d been! He could have been killed! He charged Daud like a madman, vision bleeding red around the edges. If Daud hadn’t told his men to stay back, the Whalers in the corner of the room could have teamed up and finished him off easily. But they did as they were told.

He’d hacked and slashed, furious and clumsy as Daud defended himself from the blows. He drove Daud up the stairs to his room and finally out the window to a collapsed building across the street. He held his sword to the assassin’s throat and then…

“And then I didn’t feel anything. No rage. No hate. No satisfaction. I was just… empty. I was an instant away from killing him and I didn’t feel anything.”

Ceòl hummed thoughtfully. “Sokolov would probably say it was shock.”

“Probably. But in that moment I realized the only thing that mattered was Emily. Daud begged for his life and I…”

Corvo took a shaky breath. “His pleas didn’t move me. I did _not_ feel sorry for him,” he hissed. “But I did believe him when he said he just wanted to fade away. His eyes looked as empty as I felt.”

He took a moment to focus on his heartbeat. It was hammering out of his chest and Corvo made an effort to slow his breathing and clear his mind before he continued. This wasn’t something he’d ever discussed out loud. He’d thought about why he made his decision that day a thousand times. But he’d never been honest with himself before now.

“In that moment, I was so empty I didn’t have wants anymore. Only needs. And I didn’t need Daud to die. What I needed was to get out of the district. What I _needed_ was to get back to Emily.” He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head to Ceòl, pressing his nose into the former god’s hair. “So I just stood there. Staring at him. Trying to feel the desire to kill him but nothing happened. At some point my arms must have gone limp, because I lowered by sword without realizing it and…”

“And then Daud was gone,” Ceòl’s voice droned, as if he were reciting an old tale from memory.

Corvo clenched his fists. “And the instant he disappeared all the rage and pain came flooding back into me. I regretted my hesitation the moment he slipped away. He called it ‘mercy’.” Corvo practically spat the word. “It wasn’t mercy. I just froze.”

“And yet, you didn’t go hunting for him after Emily was safe.” Ceòl looked up and cocked his head. “Not seriously, anyway.”

Corvo sighed. He had looked for Daud, but only enough to make sure that he’d kept his word and faded into obscurity. And from all reports, it seemed he had.

“In the end, Emily was more important than revenge. Jessamine would’ve…” His voice cracked. “She would’ve wanted me to stay and protect our daughter rather than go chasing a phantom across the Isles. Those early years of Emily’s reign were so fragile. So I stayed.”

“And you never corrected Emily in her assumption. She thinks Daud is dead.”

Corvo swallowed. “I don’t know how to tell her. I’ve told her about everything else at this point, even all the memories you erased from her.” He ran a hand over his face. “It’s time she knew.”

Ceòl stiffened in his arms. “If you think that’s wise.”

Corvo’s stomach filled with dread. “It’s going to go poorly, isn’t it?”

Ceòl didn’t reply.

“Is she going to hate me?”

“She will never hate you, Corvo. But…” Ceòl propped himself up on one arm and looked into the distant light. “She will hunt for him.”

Corvo shrugged. “I assumed as much. Is that a problem?” After several seconds of silence he asked again. “Is there some reason you don’t want her hunting Daud?”

Ceòl simply huffed and laid back by his side. “Do what you think is right. Whatever will happen… will happen.”

“Emily will be finished with her undercover work near the end of the Month of Songs. I’ll tell her just before the Fugue Feast. That way if she reacts badly…” He swallowed. “She won’t be held responsible for her actions.”

Ceòl rolled his eyes. “She could never hurt you.”

Corvo wasn’t so sure. Keeping this particular secret from her was a massive betrayal. The similarities to Meagan Foster— Billie Lurk— weren’t lost on him.

“Still,” Corvo said. “No more secrets.”

Ceòl stayed quiet, eyes locked onto the pulsing light.

Corvo ran his hands down Ceòl’s back. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“I mean, is it really over? Are you safe now?”

“Safe from Delilah.”

“But there are other threats?” He sat up slightly and wrapped a hand around the back of Ceòl’s neck. “I know you’re a bit stronger now but is the Void still deteriorating? It feels… off.”

This place was quiet now, but Corvo had a sinking feeling that this stillness wasn’t a good thing. The blue-skied Void of the past may have been serene on the surface but there had been an intense power pulsing beneath the veneer. Now, it was starting to feel eerie.

Ceòl smiled softly and pushed him back down on the bed. “This lull in energy is perfectly natural for the Void in its current state.” He laid his head on Corvo’s chest and closed his eyes.

That didn’t sound right but Corvo didn’t know enough about the Void to dispute that, and if anyone knew about the workings of this strange place it was Ceòl.

Corvo’s eyes drifted to the ancient ritual site in the distance. Ceòl still hadn’t confessed what that place was to him but Corvo wasn’t a fool. The scene spoke for itself. It was where the cultists who purchased Ceòl from the pleasure house sacrificed him all those millennia ago. He shuddered to think about what that boy went through at their hands. But for Ceòl, death hadn’t been the end. It was the beginning.

Time had no meaning in this place, after all.

* * *

It was just before sundown when Alma heard the creaky hinges of the front door open. She turned to greet her houseguest but as soon as she opened her mouth, her hand flew to cover her nose. The stench! 

“Callista! By the Void! What is that smell?” Alma marched to the door, grabbed the young woman by the shoulders and shoved her back outside. “Wash up _outside_ before you come indoors smelling like a whale corpse, dear,” she chided.

Alma grabbed a clean bucket and a wash basin from the porch and guided her over to the small water pump in the side yard. It was still plenty warm so she didn’t have to worry about her guest catching a chill, and she refused to have her small house reek of fish guts for the foreseeable future. Alma filled the bucket while the young woman stripped down to her underthings in the garden shed.

She emerged a few minutes later carrying the entrail-encrusted clothes. “Most of the shower units at the fishery are broken. They have water pumps in the back, but that area is really open. I didn’t want to undress in front of all those men and… anyway.” She held out her clothes gingerly. “Should we burn these?” she asked, her face perfectly serious.

Alma grinned despite herself. “Tempting as it is, most common folk just wash their clothes when they get dirty…” She glanced around to make sure there was no one who might overhear, and added in a whisper, “Your Highness.”

Emily— going by ‘Callista’ for the purposes of her secret month-long visit to Karnaca— went pink in the cheeks. “I– of course. Sorry, Alma.”

Alma smiled fondly and waved her over. “Dump them in there,” she said, pointing to the wash basin. “And then scrub up.” She tossed Emily a threadbare towel and bar of soap.

Alma began washing the clothes while Emily washed herself in semi-privacy behind a curtain of sheets hanging on the clothesline.

When Emily emerged, clean and dry and wearing some of her clothes that had been hanging on the line, she sat down next to Alma. Her hair was damp and the red dye used to alter its color stained the towel. More laundry for later.

Emily’s eyes lingered on the water in the basin as it foamed pink. “I would have washed my clothes.”

Alma grinned. “I know, but you’re not accustomed to doing your own laundry and this is a very dirty job.” She stood up and dumped the putrid water from the wash basin down a sewer grate near the street, then refilled it to give the clothes a second rinse.

“Long day, Callista?” Alma asked casually, as they sat together in the shade.

They weren’t alone out here, not truly. The houses on either side of her’s had been “rented out” by members of Emily’s personal guard and the apartment building on the other side of the street was full of trusted members of the City Watch, with the Royal Protector always nearby and shadowing his daughter. But they made themselves scarce and didn’t interfere in this social experiment Corvo got it in his head to do with the young empress. So, Alma didn’t complain about her temporary new neighbors.

Emily sighed and hung her head. “You could say that. I had to clean out the clutch tanks. I may never eat fish again.” She twisted her neck back and forth, trying to work out some muscle tension.

Alma laughed. “Sometimes it’s best not to see where certain foods come from. Just be glad you didn’t get a job making blood sausages at one of the butcher shops.” She wrinkled her nose and winked. “Now there’s a job few people have the stomach for.”

Emily smiled tightly and stared into the distance. She wrung her hands with almost as much force as Alma wrung the filth free from the dirty clothes in the basin. Finally, Emily spoke.

“I implemented tariffs for fish and other seafood imported into Gristol four years ago.”

Alma turned her head and waited. The silence lingered on for almost half a minute before Emily continued.

“After the plague, Gristol couldn’t export _anything_. A lot of plague victims were dumped into the river and eaten by hagfish and there were concerns about cross-species infection. Even though the Academy’s physicians assured everyone it was safe, no one wanted to eat anything from Gristol. Even our own citizens refused to eat any meat or fish that came from the island. Meanwhile, Serkonos’ fishing industry boomed.”

Emily shrugged. “We expected that to change once the plague was officially over but after nearly eight years nobody would eat fish farmed in or caught around the island. So, the tariffs made it cheaper for Gristolians to eat locally sourced fish versus Serkonan. Our fishing economy started bouncing back and, from the reports I saw, the Serkonan fishing industry wasn’t hurt by it overly much. They just focused on selling locally and shifted export strategies to Morley.”

“Or so you thought?” Alma offered a guess.

“Or so I thought.” Emily rested her elbows on her knees. “Exporting to Morley was more expensive and there’s not as much demand for it— not like there had been in a Gristol where the people were too scared of plague to eat their own food. Selling locally wasn’t going to make up for the lost profits either. So the owners started cutting wages and hours for employees to make up the differences. They dismissed most of the maintenance workers too. Equipment that broke was never fixed and working conditions got worse and worse.”

She ran her hands over her face and stifled a dark laugh. “Their business earnings looked almost the same and I thought I was genius, Alma.” Emily’s lip curled a bit and she shook her head. “I was eighteen and damned proud of those tariffs. I thought I saved one industry without doing any harm to another. I thought I was a _fantastic_ empress, so I patted myself on the back and went to eat a luxurious meal with a bunch of sycophants. Meanwhile, hundreds of people were suffering because of what I did. _Hundreds_. And just at one fishery! I can’t even imagine how many other businesses did the same as Santiago.” She huffed. “Probably all of them.”

“First of all,” Alma said, her voice stern, “You didn’t cut those people’s hours or wages. You didn’t make them work without safety equipment or walk home wearing fish guts because you didn’t fix the showers. Their bosses did that.”

“Because of my decisions.”

“Yes, because of your tariffs. Because they didn’t want to tighten their belts or adapt to a changing market, so they made the conscious decision to hurt hundreds of people. You’re not…” Alma chewed her lip as she thought over how best to phrase her words. She whispered, “You’ve never worked before. You’re a kind and empathetic young woman but you’ve never lived like anyone but an empress.”

Emily crossed her arms tightly around herself. “Well, there were a few months… when I was younger.”

Alma paled. She’d nearly forgotten. Empress Emily wasn’t a stranger to suffering was she? “Apologies. I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t–”

“It’s alright.” Emily exhaled a shuddering breath. “I try not to think about those days but maybe I should. Maybe it’d ground me some.”

Alma hummed in thought for a moment. “Simple truth is… sometimes there’s no option that won’t cause harm.” She turned back to her wash.

Emily stared, dumbfounded. “That’s it? I’ll hurt people no matter what I do?”

Alma smiled gently and wrung the once-filthy shirt out over the grass. “People are always hurting from something. There’s no policy or decree that’ll alleviate all their suffering. You just need to figure out which option causes the least harm to the fewest number of people.”

“That is awfully cynical.”

“Maybe.” Alma stood up and cracked her lower back. “But it’s true.”

It was getting dark now but it was going to be a warm night. There was plenty of time for the clothes to dry, and she hung the freshly washed shirt and pants on the line.

Alma ushered Emily back indoors and sat her down for dinner. They ate in contemplative quiet for most of the meal, and Emily helped clean up. Alma tried not to laugh as the young empress washed each dish with unnecessary precision, taking far too long to finish the task. But it was the thought that counted she supposed.

They settled down for the evening, each with a cup tea, and sat on the porch to catch the breeze and get some relief from the summer heat.

“Alma,” Emily began. “How do I know…” She slumped in the wooden chair and scrunched her face. “How can I _ever_ know what impact my decisions will have?”

“You can’t.” Alma watched the moon rise and reflect its blue light over the waters of the canal as she rocked back and forth in her chair. “You’re not the Outsider, girl. You can’t see and know everything.”

A sharp sound, like a snort or hiccuped laugh caught Alma’s attention and she whipped around, looking for the source. But there was no one there. She shrugged it off.

“But you can see and know more than you do now. And that’s where walking in someone else’s shoes can do you favors. You learn more about their lives, and so you learn more about the things that affect them. It’s all you can do.” Alma swallowed thickly. “It’s more than most people do. And I— I think your mother would be very proud of you.”

Emily wiped a tear from her cheek.

They spent the rest of the evening sitting together in the warm breeze, talking about their respective days. Alma glanced at the young ruler from time to time, and she had a feeling that the empire was in good hands again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There _might_ be a Part 3 coming early next year, but I can't promise it yet. I have a 17 chapter outline and about 8k words written on it but... there are a lot of plot holes to fill in. So time will tell if that ever becomes a thing.


End file.
